Inscription
by humbirdbum
Summary: Every week, she notices there's a new word inked on Quinn's skin. Rachel certainly hadn't expected junior year to turn out like this, just chock-full of surprises, most of which revolve around a certain blonde, drawing them slowly together.
1. Chapter 1

**INSCRIPTION**

Pairing: Quinn/Rachel  
Rating: PG13, warnings for femslash and language and probably excessive fluff  
Spoilers: Season 01  
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee; this is purely for my own personal enjoyment  
Summary**:** Every week, she notices there's a new word inked on Quinn's skin. Rachel certainly hadn't expected junior year to turn out like this, just chock-full of surprises, mostly revolving around a certain blonde, drawing them slowly together.

* * *

**Chapter 01**

Rachel Berry was running late for her very first class on the very first day of the school year. She knew she should have called it quits after the third DVD last night, but her fathers were adamant about getting as much bonding time with her as possible before the whirlwind of academic responsibilities swooped in. That being the case, she didn't have the heart to be pissed about the whole thing right now. She settled for slightly panicked.

Finally, she skidded to a halt in front of the room her Literature class was in. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door. Idle chatter floated to her ears. The teacher apparently hadn't arrived yet. She felt her shoulders sag with relief, but was also somewhat disappointed that she wouldn't have the opportunity to try out an excuse to explain her tardiness (She has a whole list at home. Y'know, just in case. Preparation is key! Also, she's a terrible liar, and she has to practice. It would benefit her career as an actress). But, she figures she should count her blessings.

Then again, maybe she wasn't so lucky. Because as she scanned the room, she noticed most of the only remaining unoccupied seats were at the back. This was why she disliked being late. She preferred sitting near the front. But the only other available chair was in the fourth row.

Beside Quinn Fabray.

Rachel wasn't very sure how things stood between her and blonde. They actually hadn't seen each other since they parted ways before the summer. She had spent the first half of the vacation away at a performing arts camp. By the time she got back, she heard from the other glee kids that Quinn and her mother had taken off to visit Quinn's sister in Boston. And then while they were both in town for the last few remaining weeks of the break, whenever the club members would get together, it always somehow happened that one of them couldn't make it for some reason or another. It was completely unintentional. They weren't avoiding each other. It just worked out that way.

Now here she was, at the start of their junior year, and so much had happened in the span of the last 365 days, but she still wasn't sure if she was allowed to sit next to Quinn in Literature. She decides she might as well find out. After all, she'd like to think they've progressed at least that much.

Quinn doesn't notice her approach. She's got her chin resting in her palm, gaze pointed at the window. Rachel regards her for a moment. She's wearing a simple apple green t-shirt and new light denim jeans. It's a look Rachel hasn't seen on her in a long, long time, not since before Quinn made the Cheerios their freshmen year.

"Quinn?"

Hazel eyes turn to her, and she finds acknowledgement in the arch of an eyebrow. Rachel clears her throat quietly.

"May I take this seat?"

The blonde shrugs, and says "It's a free country", before turning back to the view outside, missing Rachel's grin.

_Progress._

In fact, she's now brave enough to ask Quinn about her summer and comment on how circumstances have prevented them meeting over the course of the past three months. But then the teacher finally walks in.

* * *

"…_t__he most prominent example in this epic is Penelope, who waits faithfully for 20 years for her husband's return.__ But that is merely one facet of it. __The Odyssey portrays the theme of loyalty in many different ways through different characters and situations. __Loyalty to family, community, the gods - it was a standard by which one was measured in Ancient Greece. Also, it is important to understand the kind of person one must be to gain the loyalty of others. To deserve…"_

Rachel feels her phone buzz in her pocket. She takes it out to check it under the table, and sees the message is from her Daddy. His meeting will be running late this afternoon so he won't be able to pick her up right away after school lets out. She debates internally whether to tell him not to bother (she could walk home; it's just about 25 minutes by foot and she had to forego her elliptical workout this morning, so she could use the exercise anyway. Or she could ask Tina to drop her off because her house is en route to the goth girl's.) or if she should just kill time on campus (maybe start reading the Greek epic they're currently discussing. Or practice in the choir room). Eventually, she decides to decide later and repockets her phone.

Except now she's missed out on some of the points that have been made in class. She frowns. Incomplete notes are not acceptable. Oh, she'll just ask Quinn. She turns toward the honor student with the intention of doing just that.

_What is she doing?_

The tip of Quinn's pen is being pressed not against the open notebook on the table in front of the blonde, but to her left inner wrist.

Rachel opens her mouth to say something, but suddenly the teacher is calling out loudly to one their classmates in the back to wake up. The boy immediately shoots up, and begins spewing apologies. Low snickering drifts amongst the aisles.

When she finally turns back to Quinn, the blonde is now blowing lightly on the black, glistening ink on her ivory skin.

In neat, stylized cursive, the word _Loyalty_ now decorates Quinn's wrist.

Sensing the brunette's stare, Quinn turns to her. "Yes?", she asks, drawing out the syllable.

Rachel snaps out of her quasi-trance, and merely shakes her head, then focuses her attention back to front of the class. Quinn doesn't press either, and returns to taking notes. Rachel figures she can ask later.

But she also figures Quinn was probably just bored anyway.

* * *

Its lunch time and Rachel is heading towards the cafeteria, excited to get to spend some time with rest of the glee club. She's seen a lot of them around already since the day began, in the hallways and in class, but there's been no time to exchange more than a few words or quick waves with any of them.

Half of them still don't particularly like her, she knows that. But none of them will ignore her or tell her to get lost (not anymore) if they cross paths or if she sits down at table with them. With the exception of Santana, but really, she does that to everyone unless they're Brittany.

So she's rounding the corner with a lot of enthusiasm, more than usual, because this year she has _friends _who she can see.

She nearly collides into a group of Cheerios. The cheerleaders stop laughing abruptly and sneer.

"Watch where you're going, freak."

"My apologies." she offers, and tries to move quickly off to the side.

"In a hurry to get somewhere, are we? As if a bug like you actually has somewhere to be."

Laughter ripples through the group of girls once more. She recognizes most of them as seniors on the squad. There are also a few unfamiliar faces, and she deduces that they must be freshmen. She's proven right when Stephanie, one of the seniors, turns to their younger counterparts.

"This here", she says, gesturing at Rachel, "is one of the many losers this school has available for you to trample on whenever you wish."

There's more snickering, and Rachel can feel her blood boiling. Her fists clench.

"Ooh, look, the freak is getting mad. I'm so scared." Stephanie's eyes flick to somewhere over Rachel's shoulder. "Why don't we… give you something to help you _cool down_, freak."

And just like that, Rachel feels a very familiar feeling of dread shoot up her spine.

She whips around, and sure enough, there's a guy from the basketball team standing there holding an extra large slushie with a grin plastered on his face. She sees his hand begin to move and she instinctively closes her eyes and holds her breath.

And then she feels a violent tug on her arm and she gasps as she careens into someone. She clings to them for balance (although that's probably a bit redundant, seeing as someone still has her elbow in their grip), opening her eyes find her face buried in blonde hair.

She hears a very high-pitched scream, and turns to find Stephanie covered in cherry slushie.

"At least it matches your uniform." she says, before she can stop herself.

Laughter tickles her right ear and she's a little more than surprised upon investigation to discover that her savior was apparently none other than Quinn Fabray.

There's not much time to dwell on that though, because Stephanie is shrieking again, and pointing, and shrieking (she can't seem to be able to formulate any actual, coherent words). Everyone else is silent and unmoving, all sporting identical faces of shock. The jock who threw the cold beverage is getting paler by the second.

"What is all this infernal ruckus?"

All eyes turn to Sue Slyvester, who's currently bulldozing her way (there are bodies flying into lockers) through the crowd that had gathered. "I'm trying to plot the best plan of attack on those moronic animal rights pansies that won't stop whining about my hunting hobby - I mean, really, few things are as fun as shooting black bears - and for the love of all that is unholy, what happened to you Steph?"

Stephanie takes a step towards her coach and glares at Rachel and Quinn. "It's all _their_ fault!"

Sue puts her hands on her hips and regards the two with narrowed eyes. Rachel fights the urge to step back, but it becomes a moot point when Quinn pulls on her elbow again, just a little bit, so that she's half shielded behind Quinn's body.

"What's your deal, Fabray? Have you suddenly taken it upon yourself to defend the scum of McKinley?"

"No." the blonde replies, easily. Rachel's feels herself shrink a bit. Had Quinn not meant to… save her?

"Oh, that's good. I have a hierarchy to maintain, and I'd rather not have to deal with any sad, pathetic attempts to undermine the glorious, natural pecking order. Just to be clear, if I hear anything about you trying something… I will smack you down so hard, you'll end up in China."

Much to everyone's surprise, and a little bit of horror, Quinn actually lets out a chuckle. "I'd like to see you try."

Sue's nostrils flare, and if Rachel didn't know any better she'd think the coach was about to breath fire. "Are you _sure _you'd like that, Fabray?"

The blonde cocks her head to the side and folds her arms across her chest. "I'm not afraid of you."

Gasps and scoffs are heard from the very riveted audience surrounding them. The older woman leans down, inches away from Quinn's face, and sniffs. "You really don't want me to call you on that bluff."

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "What would you do, Ms. Slyvester? Because I'm pretty sure I already hit rock bottom last year when I was pregnant and homeless. I had no family, no friends, and no God at one point, and in a way even my body wasn't my own anymore. All my belongings fit in a duffel bag. And don't even get me started on actually giving birth, because that's _terrifying_. Have _you_ tried pushing a tiny human out from between your legs?"

And for probably the first time in history, Sue Sylvester was speechless (and she has a horrible grimace on her face). And for the first time as well, Rachel suddenly realizes how _really bad_ (that's how bad it is, she can't think of any other words to describe it) Quinn had it in sophomore year, and it pulls at her chest.

"That's what I thought. So you can threaten me all you want. But you can't stop me from doing what _I_ want. And that includes pulling the people who helped me escape 'rock bottom' — people who are most definitely not 'the scum of McKinley' (Rachel thinks her grin must be reaching her ears!) — out of the way of ice corn-syrup projectiles and the like." Quinn looks over to the Cheerios then. "Or exacting revenge for them when I don't get there in time. And, of course, you won't ever know it's me, because after all," she turns back to Sue, "I learned from the best, didn't I, _Coach_?"

There's a beat, and then Sue laughs heartily. "I am once more reminded of why you were my favorite, Q. I _did_ teach you well. Are you sure you don't want to ditch that Backstreet Boy wannabe Schuester and his bunch of posies? I'd be willing to open back a spot for you on the squad."

Quinn hadn't expected that speech to get her cheerleader status back. She blinks a few times, processing through the shock. Somewhere, she registers that Stephanie and the rest of the Cheerios are gaping at her. Then she feels the slightest tug on her sleeve. Turning her head, she finds Rachel looking at her with a worried, hopeful expression, lip caught between her teeth. Quinn gives her a small smile. "I'm not going to leave glee." she says softly, as much to brunette as to her former coach.

Rachel beams.

"Fine. Sing your nursery rhymes, as long as you can deliver those double backflips."

"If I come back, you have to stop sabotaging Glee."

"_What_? Now, see here, you've already proven that you've got the roar, claws and canines of a lioness, Q, but you _don't_ get to tell me what to do."

The blonde shrugs. "You're the one who needs me."

"Ex_cuse _me?" And the woman in the red tracksuit is back to towering over the two of them. "Listen here, missy, Sue Slyvester needs _no one—_"

"Ms. Sylvester, with all due respect," Quinn cuts in calmly, "If you've done the research, which I know you have, then you know you actually have some serious competition for the title this year. Don't get me wrong, you guys killed it last year, but you also know that it would have been much easier if I was on the squad. Because lets face it, while Santana is a more-than-decent HBIC, half the time she just doesn't give enough of a shit to do things the right way."

"Tru dat."

All eyes turn to the Latina who's just appeared on the scene. Brittany is beside her, of course.

"The whole leadership thing can be such crap. It is way too much work to have to keep people's asses in line all the time."

"See? And you're going to have to up the ante this year. My dancing is second only to Britt. You're the one who needs me. I mean, c'mon, _really?_" Quinn gestures at Stephanie, who's still standing there with slushie dripping off of her, looking like a wet rat. The girl lets out an indignant squeak.

"Oh for the— go clean yourself up, Steph!" Sue barks. Stephanie is quick to obey. Rachel watches her, knowing that she'll have a bitch of a time getting that stuff off her now.

The coach sighs and regards Quinn again. "You're asking a lot, Q. It's in my instincts to snuff out the weak. And the annoying. Because, god, is your little club annoying."

Quinn shakes her head. "What? Are you saying you wouldn't be able to find a way of undermining Glee without my knowledge? Is it that hard to outsmart a seventeen-year-old?"

"So you're saying… I can continue to sabotage Glee, you just can't find out about it."

"I certainly can't stop you from trying, but I will be keeping an eye open. Being able to keep closer tabs on you is also good incentive for me to agree to rejoin the squad. And I _will_ leave, taking away with me a significant chance of you winning this year's competition, if I do uncover any of your twisted schemes. I love cheering, I do, but I won't be used, and I won't let you use S and B either."

Sue considers this for a moment. "What about Schuester's hair?"

"We'll consider that fair game. Insult it all you want."

"Excellent. Alright, Q, we'll talk more later. I'll be in touch." And with that, Sue turns on her heels and heads back to her cave— er, office.

"Show's over, folks!" Santana growls, and the crowd disperses as well. There's urgent whispering and texting happening all around, and there's no doubt the whole school will know by the end of lunch time that Quinn is back on top of the pyramid.

Brittany squeals and tackles Quinn. "You're back on the squad! We get to play together in the shower again!"

Rachel raises an eyebrow, causing the ex-ex-cheerleader to turn the faintest shade of pink. "Not what it sounds like."

"We have this really awesome rubber ducky collection, Rachel! You should see it. What did it sound like anyway? Oh, speaking of sounds, did you know Quinn can quack really, really well?"

Quinn groans.

"Can she now? I must ask for a demonstration sometime." Rachel replies, eyes twinkling.

"And it sounded like you were talking about a different kind of playing in the shower, B." Santana adds with a smirk.

"Oh. That. We could do that too if you want, Q!" the taller blonde chirps.

"I'll pass, B."

Nonplussed, Brittany shrugs. "Oh! Let's hurry before they run out of jello!" She grabs Santana's arm and they dash for the cafeteria.

Quinn shakes her head ruefully. As she and Rachel follow at a much more unhurried pace, with her walking a little ahead, she feels the brunette's gaze shift to the back of her skull. And stay there.

So she looks over her shoulder. "What?"

Rachel startles a bit and stops in her tracks. Quinn turns to face her fully. She's about to ask again, but then Rachel has her eyes downcast, picking at the hem of her shirt and scuffing her shoes against the floor. Quinn's brow furrows because she's never seen the brunette act like this.

"Thank you."

The voice that says it is quiet and so un-Rachel that Quinn thinks she might have just imagined it. But then she comes to the jarring realization that Rachel Berry is being _shy_.

The brunette clears her throat, and meets her eyes this time. "Thank you." she repeats.

Quinn nods. "You're, uh, welcome."

They stand like that for a few seconds, shifting their feet, until Quinn coughs and tilts her head towards the cafeteria. "C'mon. Aren't you hungry?"

Rachel falls in step beside her. "That was… pretty amazing. What happened back there."

The blonde leans in a little closer to her. "Want to know a secret?" she whispers.

"Okay." is Rachel's eager but equally soft reply.

"Childbirth? Well, it was a walk in the park compared to _that_."

Rachel doubles over, one hand clutching Quinn's wrist to keep herself from falling completely to the floor, while the other is curls around her stomach as peals and peals of laughter spill from her lips. Quinn laughs with her, because, really, that kind of laughter? It's infectious.

When they both finally have a little control over their breathing again, Quinn can't help but notice that Rachel Berry really is rather pretty (maybe even beautiful) like that – cheeks flushed, eyes shining, smile full, and _happy_.

And both of them wonder when the hell the world turned upside-down, that Quinn Fabray was saving Rachel Berry from slushies instead of doling them out, earning shy words of gratitude, and sharing jokes with her in the middle of the hall for all to see.

Because they both know this was so not the world they lived in fifteen minutes ago.

Still, they're not complaining.

"So how did you manage to hold it together in front of Slyvester then?" Rachel asks.

Quinn smiles, that same small smile from earlier, and lifts her arm, the one Rachel still happens to have a hold on, to eye-level. And there it is, on the inside of Quinn's left wrist. Rachel's fingertips move of their own accord, ghosting over the black flowing letters.

_Loyalty._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I was agonizing for a long, long time about what word to use for this chapter. Hahaha. I thought this story would just be a one-shot consisting of short vignettes for every word Quinn uses, but I ended up having way too much fun writing Sue, and badass!Quinn in the first part. And this part turned out even longer than that. There should be about three or four more chapters after this, and hopefully it'll be done by the time the second season starts. I really just wanted to contribute my own piece to the Faberry fandom. I've been unhealthily obsessed with this pair for a while now.

* * *

**Chapter 02**

She is, once more, not pleased with how her week is starting. Literature began ten minutes ago, and the chair beside her is empty. Rachel finds herself disappointed. She is also _annoyed_ at herself for being disappointed. So what if Quinn is absent today? It shouldn't be such a big deal. It's not like they're close or anything (at least, not yet). And it's not like she really wants to be (okay, now you're lying to yourself). After the slushie-rescue incident, most of their interactions have been plain _awkward_. It makes her cringe just remembering the times they tried to strike up a conversation only to realize they had no idea what to say to each other.

But she is still disappointed when the day does not begin like it did for most of last week, with a certain blonde greeting her with smirk and a mumbled "Morning".

Mostly though, she is worried.

In her head, she's running through all the possible reasons why Quinn isn't here. She gives herself a mental slap somewhere around "terminal cancer".

Twelve minutes after Literature has started, Quinn arrives.

Well, more like she slams the door open, glares at Ms. Thompson (who immediately swallows any comment she may have had on Quinn's lack of punctuality), and storms over to her seat.

Cutting off the ensuing murmurs, the teacher resumes class right away.

Rachel, however, is not as quick to recover. She stays frozen, staring at the girl beside her, torn between reaching out and backing off. She wants to _help_, but that expression, that stance and that _uniform_ — it all brings many a memory to the forefront of Rachel's mind, none of which end well for her (despite that, she can't help but marvel at how just about any emotion looks spectacular on Quinn — rage, sorrow, joy). Still, no matter how much she struggles with it, she just can't let it go.

So she takes a minute to choose her words very carefully, and takes a deep breath. "Quinn…?"

The Cheerio says nothing, but Rachel sees her shoulders tense just a bit more.

"I just want you to know that, if you need anything… I'm here."

Quinn glances at her from the corner of her eye. Rachel smiles at her nervously, but it falls when the blonde simply looks away again. The brunette sighs.

Several minutes later, Rachel is getting more and more frustrated at her inability to concentrate on _The Odyssey_. She stops writing and rubs at her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. There are the beginnings of a headache in her temples.

She hears Quinn shift beside her, and feels a knee bump hers lightly. She opens her eyes again to find the girl now slumped over her desk, chin resting on her crossed arms, and staring blankly ahead. The cheerleader looks bored, for the most part, but by now the Rachel knows a thing or two about forced nonchalance.

A diminutive smile crosses the brunette's lips, and she's has no further problems concentrating from that point on. The warmth of Quinn's skin against hers under the table is only minimally distracting.

* * *

Rachel ends up having a free sixth period when their chemistry teacher has to bail for a family emergency. She shrugs and makes up her mind to practice the new solo Mr. Schue assigned her in their last Glee meeting.

The corridor is empty, so she hears the yelling and the crashing sounds coming from the choir room even from a distance. She picks up the pace. They better not have damaged the piano.

All the noise comes to an abrupt halt just as she's about to enter the room. The door has been left slightly ajar, and she splays one hand against it and pushes lightly.

The sight that greets her is this: Brittany with her arms around Quinn, the taller one pressing the shorter blonde's face into her shoulder; Santana standing off but close-by to the side with her arms crossed; several displaced chairs lying on their side all around the room.

Quinn is actually struggling to get out of Brittany's hold, but the blue-eyed girl doesn't budge an inch.

"Fabray. Give it up."

At Santana's words, Quinn stops squirming. A moment later, she burrows further into Brittany's shoulder, and her hands dig into her captor's sides instead of pushing at them. Quinn's fingers eventually turn white, and Rachel sees Brittany actually wince (but otherwise remain completely motionless).

Rachel doesn't know how long it is, but after some time Quinn's shoulders sag and her arms fall limply to her sides; Brittany eases up on her embrace.

"Okay, now, are you going to tell me whose ass I need to kick yet or _what_? Because otherwise I'm just going to go out there and start throwing random people into dumpsters. I'm bound to hurt the right one sooner or later."

The head cheerleader chuckles lowly and turns to face Santana. And that is when she notices Rachel standing in the entryway.

Crap. "I— uh—"

"What are doing here?" the words rush out as a harsh whisper from Quinn's mouth. There's an odd mix of surprise, fear, and anger in it.

"I just— there was sixth— and my solo— then the piano—"

Santana takes a step towards her, full of menace. "Shut up. Get out."

"But, I— "

"Rachel," Quinn interrupts, "_please_."

The brunette takes in a shaky breath, glances at all three girls again briefly (Santana glaring, Brittany smiling sadly, Quinn squeezing her eyes shut), and then retreats, softly pulling the door closed after her.

It is so totally unfair that the first time Quinn calls her by her name, it had to be like _that_.

* * *

Brittany approaches her at the end of the day, leaning against the locker beside hers as Rachel shoves the books she needs to take home into her bag.

She ignores the cheerleader. She realizes that she is being irrationally upset that Quinn would confide in them and not her, because they've been her best friends for a decade and she's been _cordial_ with the blonde a grand total of seven days. Intellectually, she understands that it makes no sense at all.

But that does nothing to balm the sting.

She really doesn't understand why she wants to be Quinn's friend so badly. _I mean,_ she thinks, _of all people! _But maybe that's it. The glee kids are generous in providing her with companionship now. But still, no one has ever let her prove that she could be a good friend, a _great _friend, if given half the chance; and maybe if she could just convince the one person who hated her the most (or at least, used to) to do just that, she could prove it once and for all.

Or maybe she's just really, really grateful for the slushie-rescue thing?

Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? Quinn won't let her in.

"When she's ready, she'll come to you."

Rachel rounds on Brittany with wide eyes. The blonde flashes a grin and pats her on the head. Then, in a twirl of red, white and black, she's gone.

_And I was under the impression that I was the psychic here._

Sighing, glee's female lead hoists her backpack onto her shoulders and makes her way to the parking lot. She replays Brittany's words in her mind as she walks.

_But what if she's never ready?_

_

* * *

_

"…so if you need to contact us— "

"The number is on the refrigerator."

"Right, and for food—"

"I promise not to attempt anything outside of the dozen recipes we have mutually agreed upon as safe."

"And in the event of an earthquake—"

"I will lie down beside a wall. We've been over this twenty-two times, Daddy."

Jeremiah Berry shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Maybe I should just stay—"

"Daddy. You haven't had a vacation alone with Dad since before I was born. Your flight, which you have already paid for in full and for which you will not be reimbursed, leaves in four hours. You are getting on that plane, and by the time you get to that lovely hotel room in Hawaii which you have had booked for months, Dad's business conference will be over and you will have a great time celebrating your anniversary. Which I will hear absolutely nothing about when you see me again on Sunday night since I'm sure it will involve copious amounts of making love."

Her father points a finger at her nose. "I think I should be concerned about how you can say that with a straight face."

"It is how you raised me. I am not to blame."

Looking over his shoulder at the taxi waiting in front of their driveway, the man tries one last time. "Are you sure—"

"_Daddy!_"

"Alright, alright already! Goodness, my own daughter, so eager to get rid of me."

"Goodbye Daddy."

"Bye kiddo."

Rachel waves as the cab drives away, watches until it turns out of sight around the block, and then pads back into the house. At sixteen, her parents finally trust her enough to have the whole house to herself for more than a whole weekend. This should be fun, right?

* * *

_Oh. My. God. I am so bored._

She glances at the clock beside her bed. It reads 4:23. Her Daddy left just under an hour ago. She was beginning to think she might not survive till Sunday after all, and it was only Wednesday for crying out loud!

But she didn't feel like engaging in any of her usual pastimes. She had popped a movie into the DVD player, only to turn it off after the first eight minutes. She picked up a book she was in the middle of finishing, only to give up before she even had to turn the page. She had sifted through her email and meandered around online for a bit, but found nothing to hold her interest. She had fixed herself a snack. That left her with her iPod, but even music wasn't cutting it like it should. What was wrong with her?

Normally, she would be doing homework right about now, but today she actually had none to do. That almost never happened. It was close to a miracle, and she should be overjoyed. Instead, she wishes it wasn't case, just so she would have something to force herself to be occupied with.

Because otherwise, her thoughts would be occupied by a certain Fabray.

After the events of Monday, Rachel had resolved to distance herself from the blonde. She came to the conclusion that she was just setting herself up to get hurt. Who was she kidding, thinking she could be Quinn's friend? The girl was _Quinn Fabray, _and she was _Rachel Berry_. She would be getting her hopes up for nothing; in the end she would just be crushed by the disappointment. There was also the consideration that, even though she appeared to have turned over a new leaf, so to speak, with regards to her demeanor towards Rachel (case in point: slushie-rescue), Quinn's attitude could easily revert back to what it once was, scathing remarks and public humiliation and all. Quinn's full-on bitch mode was still very much alive, granted it had not been directed at her lately (mostly at stupid jocks and incompetent freshmen). But was there really anything keeping it that way? In fact, Rachel had half-expected to face some unpleasant consequences come Tuesday for having stumbled onto, albeit inadvertently, the scene in choir room.

So, yes, distance.

But any and all resolve she had was completely shattered when she came into Literature the next day and found Quinn applying the finishing touches to a new word embellishing her wrist.

_Forgiveness._

Rachel had planned not to sit next to the blonde, even if it meant sitting in the back, but she immediately (and rather unceremoniously) dropped down into her regular seat beside the cheerleader on the sight of it. She completely blames the pretty handwriting.

Quinn looks up, giving her one of her patented eyebrow raises. "Morning."

There's that infernal smirk too.

"Good morning!" It was an automatic response. She was just being courteous. Except, it had come out way more cheerful than she had intended. Also, she couldn't stop staring at the word.

And Quinn looks amused.

"Doesn't your coach have a policy against tattoos or something to that effect?" she says to cover.

The blonde laughs. "Well, it's not a real tattoo. But you're right." She then digs into her pocket and brings out a white wristband, which she slips on, effectively hiding the markings. "I won't tell if you don't."

Quinn's eyes glint with mischief, and the only thing Rachel can do is grin back like a dork and think "_I am in SO much trouble_".

Which brings her to now. Rachel sighs at the ceiling. She hasn't been able to get Quinn out of her head ever since. She's pretty sure it's unhealthy. It also frustrates her to no end, but she can't help it. Rachel possesses a natural curiosity and a flair for the dramatic. The Cheerio happens to appeal to both.

With another sigh and another glace at the clock (it's only been four minutes since she last checked), she decides that she needs some fresh air and rolls out of bed. Moving to her closet, she picks out whatever's within easy reach, which happens to be a gray collared shirt, beige shorts, and her white trainers. She's out the door as fast as her legs can take her.

* * *

The trail through the park has hardly changed. It's like stepping into a pocket of space where the winds of time do not blow. So even if she hasn't been here in ages, it's all familiar and comforting. It's not a very popular spot either (it's a little too out of the way for most of Lima, small town though it is, but it's near her place) and the quiet allows her to leave the complications of the real world behind. She remembers what it was like to be a little girl, carefree and naïve, and slips back easily into the feeling. It's her own little Never Neverland.

Here, she can be aimless. Outside, everything she does is goal-oriented, ambition-driven. But in this place, she can just wander around with no purpose, no destination. And that's exactly what she's doing.

Out of the blue, there's a rustling noise and a blur of yellow bursts out of the bushes ahead. She pauses mid-step, wide eyes observing a rather sizeable golden retriever shake the leaves out of its fur. Eventually, she discerns that it does not appear to be hostile in nature when it looks up at her and sits back on its haunches, a pink tongue lolling out its mouth.

She approaches cautiously. The dog doesn't move, simply watches her. Rachel extends her hand towards its snout when she gets close enough and it gives her skin a warm, wet lick. She smiles and squats down. "Good…" she ducks her head a bit, "…boy. Good boy. Are you lost?"

The retriever doesn't respond, obviously. It doesn't have a collar either. But it's very healthy looking and well-kept (its fur was delightfully soft and smooth), so it was most likely not a stray. Rachel stands again and swivels her head around a few times, trying to locate its owner.

"Rachel? Is that you?"

She turns towards the source of the voice. "Kurt?"

The boy steps out further from behind the trees. "The one and only. What are you doing here? I didn't know you had a dog."

Rachel shakes her head. "I don't." And it obviously wasn't his either. "I sort of… found him. Or he found me."

"Oh." He peers closer at the animal. Suddenly his eyes light up with recognition. "Oh! Of course. Apollo!"

The dog's tail wags enthusiastically and it moves towards him. He lets out a laugh and ruffles the fur on top its head.

Rachel feels relief flow through her. "You know each other. I assume you're acquainted with his owner as well?"

"I sure am." He grins at her. "What say you help me find them?"

The diva blinks and shrugs. "Alright. As of the moment, I am free of any obli—"

"Right, let's go then!" he says, throwing an arm around her shoulders and ushering her forward.

She stumbles for a second, but manages to right herself quickly. "Wait, how do—"

"Just follow me."

It becomes obvious that Kurt knows exactly where he's going, and he doesn't really need any help finding this person, whoever they are. But in a sense, Kurt is actually asking her to hang out with him (usually the only ones who ever offer are Tina and Finn), and she's got nothing to lose. So she makes up her mind to 'chill out' and follow obediently. The golden retriever plods along beside them.

After walking together in companionable silence for a while, they veer off into the trees and come to stand next to a brook a little ways off the path. There's a small waterfall (barely any taller than Rachel herself) that flows into a calm area of water, creating a small pool, before it tapers off again through the forest in the opposite direction.

Kurt is looking around thoughtfully, as if searching for something.

"What is it?"

"I don't see—"

Suddenly, their canine companion lets out a bark and promptly dives into a huge pile of dried leaves. They hear a yelp (a decidedly happy one) and then there's red, orange and brown flying everywhere and Quinn rolls into view, wrestling playfully with Apollo.

"Naughty boy! What have I said about disturbing mommy's nappy time?" She pushes the dog onto its back and rubs his stomach vigorously, making his leg kick helplessly into the air. "Suffer the wrath of the Fabray Belly Attack!"

A laugh bubbles out of Rachel's throat. The blonde's head immediately snaps up and startled hazel eyes lock with hers.

"Berry?"

The brunette smiles a little sheepishly. "Hi."

"I bumped into her on the way over." Kurt explains with an amused grin. He advances and Rachel follows suit. "And she bumped into Apollo. Or something like that."

Quinn recovers from her deer-caught-in-headlights moment, smiling at them as they settle into a circle on the ground. "I see."

Rachel takes in her appearance. She's traded in her Cheerio's attire for casual clothes. Black cargo pants with plain black ankle-high Chucks. There are grass stains on her blue tank top and mud streaks across her arms. And she doesn't seem to mind.

The cheerleader picks up a stick, waves it in front of the retriever and then throws it off into the distance. Apollo dashes after it. "I'm guessing Mom dropped by your place again and mentioned I'd be here?"

Kurt nods. Rachel looks a little confused and he notices, so he addresses her. "Her mom and my dad are, like, best buddies now."

"Oh. How did that happen?"

"Stuff happened over the summer," Quinn supplies, leaning back and propping herself up on her hands. "Basically, after my mom kicked my dad out, she wanted to prove to herself that she could be an independent woman. She started off by getting Kurt's dad to pimp our rides."

"The Fabrays currently own the fastest sedan in Lima." the boy says proudly.

"Wow."

"Yeah. So they totally bonded over that." Apollo is back, pushing the stick into Quinn's hand. She acquiesces and throws it for him once more. "And then there's the whole 'our-kids-are-both-gay' thing."

Kurt sniggers. It takes a second to register, then Rachel's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. "_What?_"

Quinn grins. "_A lot _of stuff happened over the summer."

"Specifically, she traumatized her mother in Boston by getting caught naked in the backseat of their newly revamped car with one of her sister's classmates."

"Hey. I was only half-naked. But, oh man, that car was a dream to drive on the interstate."

Rachel is still gaping. "…wow."

Quinn smirks. "I think we broke her."

"I think she's drooling."

The brunette snaps her jaw shut at that. "I– I was not!" Curse her overactive imagination.

The other two chuckle at her indignant tone. Fortunately for Rachel, the dog comes around again, successfully drawing attention away from her. Apollo drops his stick beside his mistress and moves in to lick her face enthusiastically. She giggles and scratches behind his ear.

Kurt makes a face. "Remind me not to kiss you goodbye later."

Hazel eyes flash. "Oh, Hummel…" Quinn sing-songs, crawling towards him.

"No. No no no no no! You stay away from me!" he exclaims, trying to scramble away from her. But Quinn is faster. In a flash, she's in his lap, arms around his neck, rubbing her cheek against his. Rachel has her hands over her mouth, but it does nothing at all to muffle her mirth. Kurt flails and screeches. "Quinn! Stop it! _Quiiinnnn! _I can feel my glamour evaporating already!"

The blonde relents, laughing. He shoves her away and stands with a huff. "I hate you, Fabray."

Both girls are still cracking up and he rolls his eyes. He then proceeds to take off his t-shirt, balls it up and hurls it at the cheerleader. It smacks feebly against her chest.

"What do you think you're doing?" Rachel wheezes in between fits of giggles.

"If he says 'a lap dance', I think I'll choke." Quinn adds.

"I'm going to wash up." He's down to his boxers. Spinning on his heel with his nose in the air, he makes his way to the brook. Apollo trails behind him. They enter the water together.

After watching them splash around for a while, Rachel sweeps her gaze over their surroundings. She's always loved the colors of autumn. "This is a really nice spot."

Quinn flops onto her back, closing her eyes. "It is."

"I used to frequent this park a lot when I was a child. But I never knew this place existed."

"I kinda stumbled on it by accident. Wandered off the trail one day and here I was."

Rachel chuckles. "Well. I suppose there are some advantages to straying from the set path from time to time after all, if you get to discover something as beautiful as this."

The blonde cracks an eye open and the corners of her lips quirk up. "Yeah. There definitely are."

It's a loaded moment. They can both tell. Neither speaks for a while, just soaking it in.

Eventually though, it passes. "So who else knows about this place?" the brunette inquires curiously.

"Hmm… Santana, Brittany. Kurt has brought Mercedes here too. And now there's you."

"What about Finn and Puck?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No boys allowed. Except that one there," She waves her hand in Kurt's direction. "I'm convinced his penis is entirely an accident though." Rachel laughs loudly, nodding in agreement. The cheerleader grins. "You could drag Tina over here with us sometime. You two are close, right?"

The diva shrugs. "Kinda." When Quinn raises an eyebrow, she carries on, "I get along with her and, by association, Artie very well. My relations with them are the most amicable out everyone in Glee. Although none of you are truly hostile towards me any longer. Finn and Noah are always indulgent and protective of me. Mike and Matt are actually pretty sweet to me. Santana and Brittany are… well, they're Santana and Brittany. You, Kurt and Mercedes seem to be more or less neutral towards me, although we do have our moments like right no—"

"Berry." the cheerleader warns without threat. "Let's hear your point sometime before it next year, shall we?"

"I don't have a best friend." Rachel says simply. "You all have someone. Nobody is _that _close to me." There's a beat of silence, and then she adds, quietly, "I suppose nobody really wants to be."

"That's not true."

The brunette drops her gaze to the ground. Images of the events in the choir room flash in her mind. "Isn't it?"

Quinn sits up, slowly. Rachel can feel the weight of her stare. "Is this about what happened on Monday?"

Never let it be said that Quinn Fabray was slow on the uptake.

The diva doesn't respond. She hears the blonde sigh. "I ran into Russell— my _father_—" she spits out, "on Sunday."

Rachel looks up. Quinn's eyes are glazed over, looking somewhere over Rachel's shoulder. "It was in the afternoon, at the mall. I was heading home. And I saw him there, and he was with… his girlfriend." She sucks in a breath through her teeth. "He had the nerve to ask how I was, how _Mom_ was. I snapped at him. Then that _whore _insulted my mom, like it was her own fault that Russell cheated on her. And then I was shouting, and they were shouting, and it was all just so _horrible_. But that wasn't the worst of it."

The blonde meets Rachel's gaze. "The worst part was when he said that I had no right to judge him, when I had done exactly the same thing he had done." Her voice drops to a whisper. "It upset me so much because he was right. I cheated on the person I was committed to." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Then that bitch of a slut made some comment about how at least she wasn't stupid enough to get knocked up. Then she insulted Mom _again._ Then I kinda mauled her."

"_What?_"

Quinn grins sheepishly. "Well, I punched her in the face. She may or may not also have a tiny bald spot on the side of her head now too."

Sue Slyvester's voice echoes in Rachel's mind: _lioness_. "Quinn! What if they press charges? Okay, don't worry, we'll figure something out. I'm sure my Dad knows someone—"

"Berry."

"…Sorry. Are— are you okay?"

"Sure. I know how to throw a punch without hurting my hand. She didn't put up much of a fight either and I think Russell was too shocked to do anything. I stormed off before he could. I would've given you a run for your money with that walk out."

"While it's good to know that you are physically unharmed, that is not exactly what I meant."

The cheerleader chuckles, "I know. I was stalling."

Rachel slaps her knee.

"Well… as you know, I was stewing in my anger for a while." She gets a nod. "It really pissed me off, the thought that I was just like him."

"You're not."

Quinn gives her a small smile. "I appreciate that. And part of me knows that's true, and that you're not just patronizing me. And that people who know me would say the same thing. But can you understand that that's not enough?" Another nod. "So I thought about it. What I could do that would set me apart from him."

The diva's eyes slide to Quinn's left wrist. Quinn's smile grows.

Never let it be said that Rachel Berry was unintelligent either.

"He kicked me out. He never contacted me again. He _still_ won't let me live it down." The blonde takes another deep breath. "But I will. I'm going to learn to forgive myself for screwing up. And then I'm going to forgive him. And that will be the difference between the two of us."

Rachel thinks she must be looking at the cheerleader with something that looks a lot like awe. The blonde really seemed to be having that effect on her a lot recently.

And apparently she wasn't done yet, because she leans forward a little and places her hand over Rachel's on her lap. There's one of the most earnest looks the brunette's ever seen in those hazel eyes. "And Rachel. It's gonna take a while to reach that point, but when I do get there, I plan to start the process of asking for and earning _your _forgiveness."

They remain still like that for a minute, until Quinn pulls back slightly. Suddenly a warm body collides into her and she finds herself with an armful of Rachel Berry. After getting over the initial stun, she tentatively wraps her arms around the brunette's back to return the hug. Rachel squeezes even harder.

So hard, in fact, that Quinn eventually has to gasp out, "Air!"

Rachel immediately scrambles off of her. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me, I just—"

"Berry."

The diva's jaw clicks shut.

"Wow, that is a useful trick."

Quinn gets another slap on the knee. But they're both chuckling.

"I'm sorry I pushed you away on Monday. It's just that… I was angry and I didn't want to risk being around you too much in case I did anything stupid. Santana and Brittany are used to seeing me like that; they know how to handle the worst of my bitchiness. Also, I was feeling kinda… vulnerable, and… Fabrays have a bit of a pride issue."

Rachel took the time to absorb this information. Quinn had actually been trying to protect her. And, taking into consideration the whole conversation they just had and the fact that she had opened up to her, also actually wanted to be her friend.

She had to fight the urge to hug the girl again. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, "Well. I think you're not off to a bad start. We'll work more on those pride issues, won't we?"

Quinn flashes two rows of white teeth, "Yeah."

Without warning, Apollo materializes beside them again. He nudges Rachel's hand with his nose. She smiles and scratches behind his ear, mimicking Quinn's earlier actions.

"He likes you." the blonde declares.

"I like him too. Even if right now he's kinda wet and smelly."

The cheerleader laughs, and then lets out a sharp whistle. The dog instantly turns away from Rachel and goes to lie down next to his mistress, placing his head in her lap. Quinn smoothes down the fur that's disheveled from shaking himself dry.

"Apollo is a good name. God of light and of the sun."

"Really? I just named him that coz I saw it in a caption of this picture of a painting of this blonde guy I thought was cute."

Rachel looks at her incredulously.

"It's called humor, Berry."

The brunette shakes her head. This is going to take some getting used to. "Right. He's also the patron of music."

Quinn smiles, and maybe it's her imagination but Rachel thinks it might actually be bordering on affectionate, "I know, Berry."

"When did you get him? How old is he?"

"About six months, I think. My cousin bought him as a puppy early this year. But he had to leave for college last month, so we adopted him."

"Six months? He's already huge. So you renamed him. What was his old name?"

The blonde winces. "Wendy."

"Are you serious?"

"My cousin has a little sister who kept insisting the dog was female. She would cry. They gave into her. She's also kinda scared of the dog, which is also why the family didn't keep him."

"Well, thank god you were there to rescue him."

Quinn makes a noise of assent. "He was obviously a very smart dog. And I've always wanted a pet. But, well, Russell…"

The diva nods when Quinn trails off. "Do you normally allow your pets to roam around so freely though?" she scolds lightly, trying to steer the conversation away from anything heavy. "What if he gets lost? Or if he hurts someone?"

The blonde's expression turns serious. "I don't just let him wander off. I send him away with strict instructions to fetch me a pretty girl."

Rachel gapes at her until she notices the slight twitch in Quinn's jaw. "You're pulling my leg again."

Quinn chortles. Rachel crosses her arms over her chest. "I can't believe that I actually considered for a second there that you had actually managed to train him to do that."

"Well," Quinn drawls, "He kinda pulled it off last time, didn't he?"

Rachel's cheeks turn crimson.

The cheerleader laughs again, and Rachel realizes that recently she doesn't terribly mind anymore when it's at her expense. But she does mind just a little, tiny bit. "Jerk."

Quinn winks.

"C'mon, Berry. Let's join Kurt for a swim. I feel like getting a little wet and wild now."

Rachel just _knows _the blonde meant for that to sound the way it did, and that its going to take a while to get her #!$*%^& imagination out of overdrive.

* * *

Rachel manages to stay very _not_ bored for the rest of the week hanging out with Quinn (and some of the other glee kids too, but mostly Quinn).

And the next Monday, when the blonde raises her hand and waves at her in greeting, she spies the word _Humility_. Quinn notices that she notices.

"I'm working on those pride issues."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Okay, this fic is turning out be a bit of a monster. I had to cut what I had planned for just the third part into two separate chapters. So this is the first one, and I'm working on the second. Uh, yay for more chapters in the future? I think I'll have to slow down the updates though, coz I'm starting to neglect my work. Also coz I think I have to figure out how to write some angst into this, coz seriously there is so much fluff in this story that you could turn it into a pillow.

* * *

**Chapter 03**

_This sucks_.

Rachel rubs her hands over her bare arms. She should've worn a sweater or a jacket. But she hadn't wanted to have to bother about it when the day got warmer, which it would in a couple of hours. The weather was always rather chilly in the early morning though, like right now, at 6:38, while she's walking to school. To make matters worse, the sky was now overcast (those sneaky clouds, they weren't there six minutes ago!), which meant even less sun than usual and the possibility of rain. She hurries on.

_I believe I'm beginning to hate Mondays._

And just as she finishes that thought, she slams into someone at the corner. The force of it sends her tumbling backwards and she lands on her rump on the pavement.

"Oof! Ow!"

"Shit, sorry, Rachel."

At the sound of her name and a familiar voice, the brunette looks up to find Quinn kneeling over her, yanking out a pair of earbuds and shoving her iPod into the pocket of her letterman. The blonde places a hand on her arm. "You alright?" she asks, even as her eyes scan for any noticeable injuries.

"My rear has suffered a bit of trauma." Rachel replies, shifting experimentally. "But I should be fine."

Quinn grins lopsidedly. "Yeah, I think you'll live." She stands, extending a hand to Rachel. "Up you go."

The diva clasps the proffered hand and allows herself to be hauled off the concrete. Only, Quinn pulls just a tad too hard and this time Rachel finds herself tumbling _forward_. "Ah!"

Fortunately, this time the blonde is also right there to catch her by the shoulders, "Whoa there! Okay, there you go. Geez, you're a lot lighter than I expected, Berry."

Rachel takes a step back, narrowing her eyes. "Are you saying you were under the impression that I was fat?"

"No. I'm saying you're short." The cheerleader tilts her head contemplatively with a smirk. "I bet I could carry you no problem."

The brunette huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. "You are adding insult to injury, Quinn, literally."

Quinn just rolls her eyes and stoops to pick up Rachel's fallen backpack, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like 'big baby'. But she smiles fondly as she straightens up again and passes the bag to the girl. "So. Hi."

Rachel breathes out a hybrid between a sigh and a chuckle. "Hi."

They move to cross the intersection. "I'm sorry for ramming you over."

"It's alright. Consider it water under the bridge. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going either, and I was hastening my stride in an attempt both to warm myself and to avoid getting caught in a potential downpour. So it's not entirely your fault. I apologize as well." the brunette responds, once more rubbing her hands over her arms.

Quinn eyes her searchingly, and then tilts her chin towards the Starbucks just ahead. "Why don't you let me grab us some coffee to make it up to you anyway?"

Rachel ponders this for a moment. "I'm not sure that's advisable, Quinn. I really think I should get to school as quickly as possible. It seems highly likely that it'll rain, and I am a bit embarrassed to admit that I am unprepared for that. You, at least, have your letterman. Besides, there really is no need to make it up to me."

"Look, if it does rain, I'll lend you my jacket." The blonde pushes on the door of the coffee shop, holding it open with one hand as she uses the other to usher her reluctant companion inside. "Okay?"

"But then what about you? I will not risk you getting ill for my sake."

"Don't worry about it. I've survived outdoor Cheerios practice during a thunderstorm."

"…Coach Sylvester is insane."

Quinn snorts. "That she is."

The brunette sighs and decides that any further protest is futile as Quinn steps up to the counter. At least it's warm in here.

The girl behind the cash register smiles sweetly at the cheerleader. "Good morning, Quinn. Are you having your usual?"

"Hey, Nikki, and yeah, thanks."

"One vanilla latte, coming right up. And for your friend?"

Quinn turns to Rachel with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll just have brewed coffee, please."

"Sure thing," Nikki says, punching in their orders and nodding to the guy behind her who shares her shift. He starts making their coffee. "So, um, how was your weekend, Quinn?"

The blonde gives her a smile, leaning her hip against the marble top. "Good. Quiet. I just finished rereading _Kafka on the Shore._"

"T-that's nice. Murakami is a really amazing author."

"Man's a genius," Quinn agrees, handing the girl her money. "What about you?"

"Oh y'know, same old. Just hanging out with friends and stuff…" Nikki answers, blushing slightly when her fingertips graze the cheerleader's.

"Cool."

The young barista beams at her. Rachel observes the interaction with an amused, knowing grin. Quinn was a natural flirt; it came as second nature to her. Rachel had been witness to this multiple times over the past two weeks. Like when Quinn would tease Santana just to annoy her (_"You keep saying you're going to kick my ass, S, but I know you won't. You like staring at it too much."_). Or flirt with Brittany, when they _both_ wanted to annoy the Latina (which had actually prompted Santana to finally make things official with Brittany a few days ago. Rachel suspects the two blondes had planned it that way). Or with _Kurt,_ which was just utterly _hilarious_ because he would flirt right back, and everyone got a good laugh out of it. Or, well, with Rachel herself. It was all in good fun.

Nikki's partner comes around with their orders. Quinn picks up the cups, handing Rachel hers. "Careful. Hot. Anyway, I'll see you around guys!"

"Bye, Quinn!" Nikki waves.

They stop at a table by the door so Rachel can mix some sugar into her drink. Quinn sips at her coffee, gazing out to the street. When the brunette looks up again after recapping her cup, Quinn is holding out her letterman to her. "It started raining."

"Oh." Rachel glances out the window, and it is indeed drizzling. "Are you sure? I-I'm fairly positive I'll be fine…"

"Deal's a deal, Berry. You wouldn't want to make me go back on my word now, would you?" the cheerleader coaxes.

Rachel is quickly discerning that it is very, very hard to say no to Quinn Fabray. She smiles shyly and puts down her backpack so she can don the jacket. As she slips her arms into the sleeves, she catches a whiff of jasmine, and she feels a sense of warmth envelope her. From the corner of her eye, she registers Nikki gaping at them and she feels her cheeks flare. She can imagine what the girl must be thinking. She swallows, picking up her bag and her coffee, and looks to Quinn. The blonde nods approvingly and holds the door open for her again.

Instantly, Rachel feels grateful for Quinn's insistence because it's even colder out here now. She drinks her coffee greedily for the added warmth in her belly, not really caring that she's scalding her tongue. She glances guiltily to her companion, but Quinn looks unperturbed by the chill. The cheerleader has a faraway look in her eyes as she stares pensively ahead.

"Quinn? Are you alright?"

"Huh?" The blonde blinks and turns to her. "Oh, yeah, I was just… thinking."

Rachel tilts her head. "May I ask what about? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I don't mean to pry or anything and I completely understand if you wish to keep your thoughts to yourself."

Quinn smiles bemusedly. "No, it's okay. I was thinking about Finn."

"Finn?" Rachel repeats. The cheerleader nods distractedly. She doesn't elaborate, so Rachel ventures a guess. "Are you having second thoughts about being a lesbian and considering getting back together with him?" she teases.

Quinn does a double take. "_What? _No! Oh, god, no. Boys are gross." She laughs. "Sorry. I meant that… I was thinking about something he said. Did… did you know he wanted to name the baby 'Drizzle'?"

The brunette raises an eyebrow. "He did?"

"Yeah. Something about how awesome it is when it's raining but it's not really raining, but it smells like rain, but you don't need an umbrella to go outside."

Rachel giggles. "That does sound like something he would say."

The cheerleader smiles, "Yeah. Of course, I called him a moron. But now that I think about it…" she closes her eyes briefly and inhales, "it actually is pretty awesome. And maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad name after all."

"Do you…" Rachel hesitates, but presses on, "do you think about her a lot? The baby?"

Hazel eyes pierce her with a meaningful look. "Every single day." is the whispered, wistful reply.

The diva drops her eyes to her feet, nodding once.

After a pause, Quinn pipes up. "What about you? I expected you and Finn to, y'know, run across the cornfields in slow motion into each others arms after Regionals last year."

Rachel chuckles. "We talked about it. But the break-up with Jesse was still fresh, and so was the whole thing with Shelby, and I just… wasn't ready. He understood. So we stayed just friends. And eventually we came to the conclusion that we worked much better that way anyway."

"I always thought as much." the cheerleader muses out loud, sipping her drink.

The brunette's eyes narrow playfully. "Of course you did. He was your boyfriend when I started pursuing him."

"Okay, I did _not_ think you would work better as friends at _that_ point because I didn't want you to work as _anything_. But, like, after Sectionals… well, it was obvious you were a girl with high standards. And he's a nice guy and all, with a pretty good voice, but…"

"Well, why did _you _date him? I wouldn't have you pegged as someone with standards any lower than mine."

The blonde shrugs. "It was easy. And it was expected. And he's the one who pursued me. _And _I didn't think boys were gross yet."

Rachel hums thoughtfully into her coffee. "And what happened between you and Puck after Regionals?"

"I told him flat out to back off." Quinn taps her chin in thought, "Whatever I had with him was complicated, and I just… wanted things to be _not_ complicated for a while, y'know? My life was a mess and I needed to pull myself together again. I wasn't ready either."

"And then you finally realized that you actually thought boys were gross and had sex with a girl in Boston."

The cheerleader laughs. "And then that. I didn't actually have sex with her though."

"You didn't?"

"Nope. Half-naked, remember? Mom caught us before we could get that far. And I honestly don't know how far we would've gotten if she hadn't. "

"Y'know… I was quite surprised with how okay you were with being gay, and even more surprised that you admitted it to me so readily."

Quinn shrugs again. "Why wouldn't I tell you? We all know how much you love your dads. You're one of the last people I'd be worried about knowing. And… well, I've had time to process it. I talked it over a lot with Kurt, San and Britt, and my mom and my sister. I'm still getting used to it, so I'm not gonna be shouting it from the rooftops or anything, but I'm tired of lying. Mom was just thankful I didn't lock myself up in my room for a whole week again, like I did at the start of summer."

The brunette raises an eyebrow. Quinn points at it. "I think I'm rubbing off on you too much. I was soul-searching, okay? Like I said, I needed to pull myself together. Figure out who I was, who I wanted to be."

Rachel smiles, "And did you?"

"Not quite. But it helped. I figured out who I _didn't_ want to be. I'm still working on the rest."

Images of Quinn flash through Rachel's mind. Eyes full of animosity, cold like steel. And then those same eyes full of melancholy — weary and resigned. Both sets so different from each other and so different from what they were like now. Now they were bright and bold, and though they still possessed a feral ferocity, they were also tempered with a certain softness. But they had always had that spark— that spark that was uniquely _Quinn_. That hadn't disappeared completely even in her darkest hours. That was slowly but surely getting stronger everyday. (Rachel had known for a long time that if she had to pick the one (physical) characteristic she liked best about Quinn Fabray, it would be her eyes.)

"You're a remarkable person, Quinn, going through what you went through and coming out even stronger for it."

Quinn snorts, "Hardly. I'm just a stubborn bitch."

The brunette whacks her lightly on the arm. They share a laugh.

"Besides, if there's anyone who deserves to be called that, it'd be you."

Rachel smirks. "This is true."

The blonde bops her lightly on the head. They laugh again.

Neither really notices that their arms are now brushing against each other as they walk and smile quietly to themselves.

Then something occurs to Rachel. "Oh! What is it this week?" she asks excitedly.

Quinn looks confused, "Pardon?"

The diva points to the white wristband on Quinn's arm, "The word. What's this week's word? Do you have one yet?" And then her face falls. "You're still doing the word thing, right?"

The blonde grins. "Calm down, Berry. Yes, I'm still doing 'the word thing'. And yes, I do have one already."

Rachel practically bounces. "So what is it? Show me, show me!"

"Hmm…" Quinn narrows her eyes thoughtfully at her companion. "I think I'll keep it a secret."

"_What?_ That's not fair!" the brunette protests. Quinn merely raises an eyebrow. Rachel lunges at her and tries to grab her wrist. The cheerleader dodges the attempt.

"Quiiinnnnn!" the diva whines.

The blonde sticks her tongue out, "Why don't you guess?"

Rachel pouts as they resume walking. "You're doing this to torture me, aren't you?"

"Damn straight."

"Who, you? I don't think so. And neither am I." Crap. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. It's not that she wasn't comfortable with it; she had come to terms with the fluidity of her sexuality ages ago. But she hadn't wanted Quinn to find out that way.

But the cheerleader simply laughs. "Yeah, I'm not surprised."

The brunette's brow furrows. "You're not? Why? I don't believe I've ever given any clear indication that I was gay— or rather, bisexual. You shouldn't assume things just because I have two dads, Quinn."

"Chill, Berry. I didn't assume anything." Quinn placates, "You've never given any clear indication that you _weren't_ bi either. And if you did turn out to be completely straight, I still wouldn't be surprised. I figured, when it came to you, the chances were 50/50. All I'm saying is that it isn't a big deal."

"Oh." Rachel blinks.

"Yeah. So, are you going to guess or what?"

The diva groans. "_Quinn!_"

"Just guess, Berry." The blonde encourages while laughing.

"Obedience."

"You're not that lucky."

"Mercy?"

"Obviously not."

"Respect?" the brunette tries, sounding a little desperate now.

"No."

"Generosity!"

"You're just going to keep shooting in the dark until you get it, aren't you?" the blonde states amusedly.

"I am not guessing blindly. You bought me coffee and then lent me your jacket." Rachel reasons. "But yes, I will keep going until I arrive at the correct response. I believe you know that perseverance is one _my_ virtues."

"Okay, that's going to annoy the hell outta me, so here's how this'll work." Quinn holds up a finger. "You get one guess per day for the rest of the week."

"That leaves me with only four more chances!" the diva exclaims, flailing her arms.

"That's right. So choose carefully, Berry."

Rachel grumbles under her breath and glares. Quinn, unfazed, merely sips at her coffee again.

"Why can't you just tell meeeee?"

"I'll let you pick next week's word if you get it right."

Rachel perks up, "Really?"

"Yeah." the cheerleader nods.

"What if I don't?"

"Then I will have had the pleasure of tormenting you for a full week, and I'll tell you what it was on Saturday."

The brunette contemplates this. "Fine. Are there any other rules?"

"Hmm, let's see. You have until midnight everyday, on the dot, to guess. Any later than that and you forfeit your chance for the day. You can't accumulate. And no cheating, you have to actually guess the word. You can't remove my wristband, or ask someone else to find out for you, or anything like that. Deal?"

"Deal." Rachel accepts, sticking her hand out. They shake.

They're crossing McKinley High's parking lot now. It's still practically empty, only a handful of cars present. Rachel surmises they must belong to other Cheerios.

"So what are _you_ doing here so early anyway, Berry?"

The diva sighs. "I'm here to use the library. This year is turning out to be academic torture, and it's barely even begun. I swear our teachers are just enjoying swamping us with so much work. I'm barely managing to keep up with all of it and still have time for my extra-curricular demands. So I'm trying to stay ahead. If this ends up affecting my vocal performance, I am going to be very upset."

"You should join our study group." Quinn says, patting her shoulder.

Rachel's eyebrows shoot up. "You have a study group?"

"Yup," the cheerleader nods, "Me, S and B."

"Oh… but I hear that study groups never work."

"Ours does."

"Really?" The brunette looks skeptical.

Quinn chuckles. "Yes, really. We're awesome. I'll prove it to you. We're having a session this afternoon at Brittany's house. Come with us."

Rachel bites her lip. "Okay…" she concedes reluctantly.

The blonde grins. "Great. I'll let the others know. Don't worry about it. We'll meet you out here after our afternoon practice."

"Okay."

They toss their empty coffee cups into the trashcan by the entrance. Quinn wipes at the raindrops on her arms with her hands. Rachel slides out of the cheerleader's jacket and offers it back.

"Thank you."

"No problem." the blonde replies kindly, slinging the letterman over her shoulder.

Rachel tilts her head towards the front door of their high school. "Ready?"

"Gimme a minute."

The brunette watches as Quinn breathes in deeply, squaring her shoulders, a determined glint flashing in her eyes. Rachel recognizes that this is Quinn building up her walls, that the laid-back version of the blonde she's come to know and experience lately is not someone just anybody gets to see.

Something in Rachel's chest swells with the awareness that Quinn trusts her with her guard down.

"Okay, Berry. Let's go."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Rachel is back outside the entrance of McKinley. She sits on the front steps, listening to her iPod. Her leg bounces up and down in her nervousness. Make her stand on stage and sing in front of hundreds of people? Gladly. Sit her in a dentists chair to get her wisdom teeth pulled out? No problem. Horror movie marathon? She can handle it. Ask her to spend an entire afternoon/evening with Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, the royalty of William McKinley High School? Now _that_ is kinda scary. Maybe she should just go home. Send a text to Quinn and just bolt. Yeah, she could—

"Raaaaacheeelll!"

She manages not to cringe outwardly at the sound of Brittany's sing-song voice from behind her. Slowly, she stands and turns.

And freezes.

She does not recognize the girls approaching her. She was expecting to be met with red armor and tennis shoes and high ponytails. Instead she is met with Brittany, wearing a bandana on her head, a sky blue blouse and a long, flowing floral skirt and sandals. And then there's Santana, hair completely unrestrained, with a sleeveless purple hoodie over her loose black slacks and black sneakers.

Last but not least, there is Quinn, blonde tresses held back in a half-ponytail, dressed in a dark brown button-down collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and skin-tight denim jeans that are tucked into black leather boots reaching up to mid-shin. She's obviously freshly showered, hair still damp, and sporting no make-up whatsoever (vaguely, Rachel notes that neither are the other two).

A hand is waving in front of her face. Rachel blinks and finds Brittany scrutinizing her closely. "You okay, Rachel? You didn't say hi or anything."

The diva blushes, realizing she was caught starting. "Sorry. Hello, Brittany. I'm fine, thank you."

Satisfied, Brittany beams at her.

Santana, however, steps forward with a glare. "Okay, look. If you're going to be crashing our little rendezvous, you have to swear on your life that you will tell no one about _anything_ that you will see, hear or do today. Do I make myself clear?"

Rachel gulps. "Crystal," she says in a small voice. This was definitely a bad idea. Were they part of some kind of cult or something?

She feels Brittany wrap and arm around her shoulders and squeeze. "Its okay, Rachel, she's just a little worried because she has to be nice to you and she doesn't want anybody else to find out."

"I do not— ow! That was uncalled for, Q! I haven't done anything!" the Latina growls, rubbing her ear, which Quinn had just flicked. The head cheerleader's eyebrow arches up. Santana rolls her eyes, "Whatever. I'll behave myself, okay Berry? But seriously, _no one_ can know. Okay?"

The diva nods. "Okay."

Almost immediately, the scowl drops off Santana's face and she actually grins. "Good. Now that we've gotten that out of the way…" she whips out a pair of shades and shoves them onto her face, "Let's get this show on the road!"

Brittany hoots, "I get to drive this time!"

As the taller blonde yanks her towards the parking lot, Rachel looks back anxiously over her shoulder. She sees Quinn wink before slipping on a pair of aviators as she ambles along behind them. Rachel feels most of her apprehension fade away.

They come to a halt beside a vehicle and Rachel's jaw drops, "A _jeep?_"

"I know, right? Isn't it awesome? It's Santana's baby. Well, aside from me, that is." Brittany giggles. She snatches Rachel's backpack from her and tosses it into the trunk, followed by her own. Then she makes her way to the front and slides into the driver's seat. The engine revs and the roof folds down.

Rachel is still gawking at the bright red monster in front of her when she feels a hand on her shoulder. Quinn is grinning at her. "C'mon, Berry. All aboard."

The brunette does as she's told and clambers into the backseat behind Brittany. Quinn climbs in after her.

"It's a _jeep!_" Rachel reiterates, still bowled over.

"Not just any jeep," says Santana from the passenger seat up front as she inserts a CD into the stereo, "It's a Jeep Wrangler Sahara. And the best part about it is…" she presses a button and suddenly there's music blasting from _everywhere_ and the vehicle is _vibrating_, "the seven-speaker Infinity sound system with subwoofers!"

Brittany speeds away from their school to the tunes of John Mayer.

Rachel tries to hold on for dear life.

* * *

Apparently, they have to pick up 'supplies' before going to Brittany's house. This involves two stops. The first of which is... McDonald's.

"Give us one Angus Bacon & Cheese, one Angus Mushroom & Swiss, and one Big Mac. And four cups of your crappy coffee." is what Santana shouts into the microphone.

Rachel's face takes on an expression of disgust at first, but then she imagines the face Sue Sylvester would make if she ever found out what her top three girls were eating right now. Then she can't stop grinning.

The second is Santana's place. Brittany kills the music so as not to piss off the neighbors while the Latina hops out and disappears into her home. Not five minutes later, she reemerges carrying a large plastic bag and which she hands to Quinn, who places it in the space between herself and Rachel. Brittany shifts into gear once more.

Quinn then digs her hand into the bag and brings out something packaged in foil, which she tosses to the brunette beside her. "Veg burger. We had San's mom whip it up for you."

Rachel smiles gratefully. "Thank you. That was nice of you guys. What else is in there?"

The blonde pulls out two cans of Bud Light.

"_Beer?_"

"Yup. Want one?" Quinn asks nonchalantly. Rachel glowers. "Suit yourself." The cheerleader passes a can to Santana instead and opens the other for herself. "B, you'll get yours later when you're not at the wheel."

Brittany nods in assent and takes a swig of her coffee (the others have already finished theirs since they weren't busy driving).

"I cannot believe you're bringing beer to a group study session!"

"There's not enough to get drunk." drawls Santana, chewing on her Big Mac. At the same time, the Latina holds out Brittany's sandwich close to her mouth so her girlfriend can have a bite.

The tall blonde glances at the diva through the rear-view mirror. "Have one, Rachel. Relax. You'll have more fun that way!"

"I wasn't exactly aware that this afternoon would be about _fun_." the brunette mutters.

Quinn chuckles and places a soothing hand on Rachel's elbow, pausing in her own quest to devour her Bacon & Cheese. "Hey. Just trust us, okay? It'll be worth it, I guarantee you."

Rachel absorbs the sincerity in Quinn's voice and exhales slowly, "Alright."

The blonde smiles, and there is peace. That is, until the next moment, when Santana brings out a cigarette packet.

"_Santana!_"

The Latina winces, "Oh god, my eardrums."

"Put that away right this instant!" Rachel shrieks, "As a member of Glee, you have a responsibility to take care of your vocal chords—"

"Q, make her shut up."

The diva turns to Quinn and glares. "You're condoning this?"

The blonde sighs. "It's kind of our tradition. We do this once every two weeks during the school year. And it's only ever one stick each. It's just how we unwind."

Rachel remains stoic. Quinn tilts her head down and looks imploringly at her over the top of her sunglasses, doing her best impression of a puppy. "_Please _don't be mad, Rachel. Look, _I _won't smoke if it upsets you that much."

The brunette struggles internally. She was feeling a little bit like a jerk now. She realized she was being permitted to be privy to a world Quinn normally shared with only Santana and Brittany, and yet Quinn was the one compromising so that _Rachel_ would find it easier to fit into that world. Then there was the fact that she said she would trust them, and here she was making things difficult. Not to mention, Quinn's current expression must be one of the most adorable things Rachel has ever seen. She never stood a chance, really. God, what has she gotten herself into?

"One stick." she mumbles.

Quinn absolutely beams and throws her arms around Rachel's neck. "Thank you." she whispers into the brunette's ear as she hugs her.

Rachel feels instantaneously gratified for her decision.

"Great. Here, Q." Santana passes the blonde a cigarette and a lighter.

Quinn promptly lights the cigarette and takes a long drag. Rachel finds herself mesmerized as she watches the smoke tumble from between the cheerleader's lips. The brunette shakes her head.

_Smoking is not sexy. Smoking is not sexy. _"I think I'll have that beer." she squeaks, reaching into the bag.

"Alright! Go Rachel!" Brittany cheers.

"Hey Quinn, pass me back the light, would you? I want my fag too."

Quinn complies. The Latina flicks the lighter a few times, but no flame appears. "Shit, I think its outta gas."

Rachel grins triumphantly. Fate was on her side.

Then Santana turns in her seat to face them, "Gimme a kiss, Q."

The blonde rolls her eyes and leans forwards. Rachel's eyes go wide.

But Santana merely traps her cigarette between her lips and touches the tip of the stick to Quinn's (also being 'held' in the blonde's mouth), making it catch fire. She takes a drag and leans back. Quinn does the same, stretching her arms across the backrest. Rachel releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Santana lights a cigarette for Brittany in the same fashion. "So," the Latina shouts out, "Now that we have everything we need, its time to par-teh!" She turns on the stereo again and seeks to a specific track number. The intro of a song Rachel doesn't recognize starts playing, but its obvious the other three are very familiar with it by the way they whoop delightedly and begin swaying their bodies and bobbing their heads.

[ A/N: link to the song at www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=FLgYSbB1pxw (Getaway People - Six Pacs) ]

Santana kicks off with the verse, waving her beer and her burger in the air, _"Six packs and Big Macs keep us rollin' down the road!"_

"_Cigarettes and coffee wher-e-ver we go." _Brittany continues. Rachel laughs, suddenly realizing where their little tradition originated from.

Quinn takes over, _"Learn to appreciate those simple li'l things, and open up our arms to what the world may bring."_

Rachel watches on with a highly amused grin they carry on in unison,

_People all around us, they shower us with love,_

And she is shocked once more when Quinn and Santana suddenly jump to their feet, grabbing onto the bars of the jeep, and holler out the chorus,

_You better keep it comin' coz we just can't get enough!  
__Where would we be without little love?  
__You can't get by without a little love,  
__Everybody needs a little bit o' love sometime!_

Quinn then turns to Rachel, grabbing her wrist, and pulls her up to stand beside her. And as Rachel watches the girl laugh into the wind with her golden locks streaming behind her, she thinks that right here, right now, is a really good time and place to be.

Also, Mondays? They aren't so bad. In fact, they're kind of awesome.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So that stuff I said about slowing down on the updates and concentrating on work? I lied, apparently. Damn my lack of self-control. This story is killing me, lol. But yeah, I had already started this part and the rest was just begging to get outta my head. Also, I suck at writing angst. It still ends up fluffy. Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, here goes. Rock on.

* * *

**Chapter 04 **

It's a full 45 minute drive to Brittany's house, which, by Lima standards, is far.

Rachel was beginning to feel a little suspicious. They had passed the city limits a little while ago, and they were currently zipping past miles of farmland. Just as she was about to ask, Brittany turns off the highway onto a dirt road. And that's when it hits her.

Brittany lives on a farm.

They drive a little bit longer, past a chicken-wire fence and a grove of buckeyes and a herd of goats and a flock of ducks (well, no surprise there), eventually pulling up in front of a large stone cottage.

"Like my place, Rachel?"

"It's fantastic, Brittany."

As they disembark, a tall blonde woman appears around the corner of the house with a white stallion in tow. "Welcome home, Brittany." she greets, speaking slowly, her voice thick with a Dutch accent.

"_Hoi, mama._" the blue-eyed cheerleader replies with a smile. She receives a kiss on the forehead.

"Santana, Quinn, nice to see you back."

The Latina waves, "Hey, Julia."

"Hello ma'am. How are you?"

"I am good, Quinn, thank you. Who is this new one?"

Rachel smiles, "Hello, my name is Rachel Berry. I'm in Glee Club with them. You have a wonderful home. Thank you for having me here."

Julia shakes her hand with a firm grip. "I am Julia. I am Brittany's mother." She turns to Brittany, "This is the one you tell me about? The little one that sings good and likes to talk?"

The three cheerleaders laugh as Rachel blushes. "That would be her," Quinn quips.

Julia grins at Rachel. "Please sing later for me. These girls never do this. Dancing, yes, always. But singing, only in the shower."

Rachel grins, "I would be happy to. And I'm sure I can convince them to join me as well."

Santana groans and Quinn shakes her head ruefully. Julia laughs, "I like this one, Britt. You keep this friend."

"Sure, mama." Brittany replies with a grin.

The horse whinnies. Julia strokes its mane. "He has been restless. Maybe you all can make the horses run later too. After you study. So they will be tired."

Brittany claps enthusiastically, "Yeah! We'll teach you how to ride, Rachel!

The diva blinks and turns to Santana and Quinn. "You all know how?"

Quinn nods, "We've spent a lot of time here. B taught us years ago."

"That one's Ovid," Santana says, pointing at the white steed with her chin, "We were actually there for his birth. He's Quinn's favorite."

"Aw, now I wish you were here that day we sang _Last Name_ with April." gushes Brittany, "We went riding in the cowboy costumes. It was so much fun."

Rachel giggles at the mental image, "It must have been."

"Anyway," Quinn interjects before the conversation can take a turn for the embarrassing, "We should head inside and get the work out of the way."

They wave again to Julia and shuffle to grab their belongings from the trunk of the jeep. Quinn stops to pat Ovid's muzzle on the way to the front door.

Once inside, they dump their bags in the living room. And then there's a flurry of movement without anyone saying anything. Brittany runs upstairs. Santana moves into the kitchen. Quinn situates herself on the floor with the couch at her back and pulls out her laptop. She places it on the coffee table in front of her and boots it. Rachel, unsure what to do, stands near the fireplace, eyes darting around.

The cheerleading captain notices this and raises an eyebrow at her. "Sit, Berry."

Santana walks back into the room with a bowl of chips and dip. "Yeah, we're not gonna bite."

The diva smiles sheepishly and places herself gingerly on one end of the couch while Santana plops herself down on the other. The Latina places a flash drive in Quinn's waiting hand, and blonde inserts it into her USB port without delay.

"So what are we supposed to be doing?" queries Rachel.

Santana smirks. "You'll see. Just leave it to Q."

Brittany reappears, bounding noisily down the stairs, with a printer. She rounds the couch and sets it beside the laptop, along with another flash drive. Quinn picks up the end of the power cable of the printer and hands it to the taller blonde absentmindedly, "Stick that in the wall for me will you, B? And remember to be careful."

"Yes, Q."

After accomplishing her assigned task, Brittany moves back towards the couch. "Scoot for me, Rach."

"But— Quinn is—"

"Just take off your shoes and sit Indian-style behind her, silly."

"Oh, okay."

The blonde on the floor unconsciously leans forward a bit to give Rachel room to reposition herself, not pausing in her work on the computer. When she senses the brunette has stopped shifting, she leans back again, resting her head against Rachel's legs. Rachel's hand, in turn, mechanically combs through Quinn's hair.

"Right, all done. And… print!"

The printer whirrs to life.

"Then we shall now have our toast." Santana declares, already distributing the remaining beers they had left. "And don't worry, Berry. We only brought eight cans, so this is the last drink for you, me and Q."

Rachel nods, "Very well. So what are we toasting?"

"_To the Conspiracy!_" cries Brittany.

"To the Conspiracy!" echo the other two cheerleaders.

"Um… to the Conspiracy…"

The cans clunk together and they knock back their drinks.

Then Rachel addresses them, "Okay, I'm a little afraid to ask, but what is the 'Conspiracy'?"

"This." Quinn picks up the dozen or so pages that have finished printing and drops them in the brunette's lap.

Rachel studies them. As she flips through the papers, her eyes go increasingly wide. These were notes! But they weren't _just_ notes. They were meticulously detailed, but organized in such a manner for easy learning and retention. There were solutions to problems she knew she would find in her Math textbook, plus additional unsolved ones for practice. There were outlines for multiple possible answers to essay questions they had been assigned in History, and scores of supplementary information on each topic. There were pictures and charts and graphs illustrating the laws of physics and descriptions of several options for science projects.

"Oh my god, these are cheat sheets!"

Santana sniggers, "You could put it that way."

"But not really. You still have to do a lot of the work yourself. And we're not, like, psychic, so we don't know what the teachers will put on the tests and stuff. You still have to study." says Brittany, nodding sagely.

Quinn tilts her head back to meet Rachel's eyes "What's great about it though, is that you never have to take notes or even listen to the teacher if the subject isn't your mission."

"Mission?"

The cheerleader nods, "That's how this works. Each of us has a mission, based on what we're good at. For example, Brittany's forte is stuff like history, because she's actually really great at remembering loads of facts when she has to. And she likes stories and is insightful when it comes to people—"

"—and history is, like, one big story about lots of different people. It's totally as if you're gossiping about dead guys!" the taller blonde supplies. "Santana on the other hand is a total math whiz."

"Anything to do with numbers, I'm your girl." the Latina remarks, "And Quinn here is our resident science geek. Don't ever watch a sci-fi movie with her. It's embarrassing."

"Shut up, S. You love Star Wars too."

"Yes, but not enough to try to construct my own lightsaber."

Color spreads across Quinn's face and Rachel chuckles, idly stroking the blonde's hair again.

"So let me guess this straight… each of you prepares fastidious notes for different subjects, and every two weeks, you guys get together and compile them all?" She receives three nods.

"And they're prepared in advance," Quinn adds in between mouthfuls of chips, "We buy notes off our seniors at the start of the year. And since most teachers just end up teaching the same stuff the same way every year, we pretty much know what to expect. So, all that…" she waves a hand over the papers, "should tide you over till the next meeting."

"I'm impressed. And kind of horrified. But mostly, I'm impressed."

The blonde smirks, "There's a reason we were the only three Cheerios left when Figgins kicked everyone who wasn't academically eligible off the squad last year. Before Slyvester threw her tantrum."

Enlightenment crosses Rachel's features, "I do remember that."

Santana stretches lazily. "If you're joining the Conspiracy, you can do your part by helping us tackle the other stuff. Like, you and Quinn have Literature together right? So there. Like Q said, you can practically sleep through all the core courses now."

"The Conspiracy, huh?" echoes the diva, grinning.

Quinn chuckles, "Hey, we were 10 when we came up with it. Cut us some slack."

"You mean when _you_ came up with it." Brittany teases, pinching Quinn's cheek. The shorter blonde bats her hand away.

Rachel giggles, "10-years-old, Quinn, and you were already plotting world domination?"

Quinn smirks, "Just wait until I complete that lightsaber."

* * *

Hours later, after completing her homework in record time, learning to stay upright on a horse, eating dinner, performing a number for Julia and her husband (as well as managing to get the other three girls to sing too), and watching the season premier of _House M.D._, Rachel yawns in the passenger seat on the drive back home.

"Did we tire you out, Berry?" Quinn mocks good-naturedly from behind the wheel.

"You most certainly did." the brunette replies sleepily, "But I'm not as tired are some of us are, apparently." She turns her head slightly to sneak a peek at the Latina sprawled across the backseat.

Quinn smiles knowingly. "You didn't have to do any of Sylvester's drills of death today though."

"No, I did not. However, you seem alright."

The blonde nods idly. "S is the strongest, and B is the fastest, but I have the most stamina among the three of us."

"Hmm… and I'm sure the fact that those two snuck away twice to have sex didn't help."

They both chuckle. Rachel closes her eyes and lets out a content sigh. "I had fun today." she admits quietly.

"I'm glad." is the equally soft response.

The light ahead turns red and Quinn slows a stop. Suddenly, Santana bolts upright. "Quinn!"

Quinn is slightly startled at first, then turns to face her friend with concern. "What, San?"

"I just realized something." says the Latina in a low voice, expression somber.

"And?" the blonde prods.

"You and me… we pretty much rule McKinley, right?"

"Pretty much."

"Right. And we're both gay, yeah?"

Quinn and Rachel glance at each other, brows furrowing, both wondering where this is going. "Yes, S. So?"

"Sooooo… the main high school in the most conservative, backwater hellhole ever… is run by _power lesbians_."

There's a beat of silence. And then all of them erupt into raucous laughter, literally rolling in their seats. The light turns green, and the car behind them honks angrily, but they don't care.

They're defying gravity.

* * *

"Perfect! You've got it!"

"Oh, thank heavens." Quinn grunts as she lets herself fall back onto Rachel's bed, legs dangling over side. It's Tuesday afternoon and they've just spent a good part of it perfecting Quinn's new solo for Glee. "Remind me why I let you talk me into this again? You're almost as hard a taskmaster as Coach."

"I didn't talk you into anything, Quinn." the diva retorts, "You _asked_ me to help you with your solo."

"I did?"

"Yes. Last week, when you decided to put aside your pride, recognize my talent and admit to me that you would value my assistance."

The blonde smirks, "I wonder what on earth could have possessed me to do that. You didn't drug me, did you?"

Rachel leans back against the headboard. "I resent that accusation. You were the one on the quest to practice _humility_."

"That doesn't answer my question."

A pillow hits Quinn in the face. Both girls giggle.

"Hey, Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Ambition?"

The blonde grins. "Nice try, but no. Three more guesses, Berry."

"Hmph. I'll figure it out. You'll see."

Suddenly, the chorus of _Tubthumping _blares. Quinn fumbles for her phone. Her face scrunches together when she gets a look at the screen.

"What is it?"

"Number I don't recognize." The cheerleader presses 'Ignore'.

Rachel nods. She knows Quinn gets random calls sometimes from people hoping to get a date with her. Ah, the price of being popular and single. They used to wonder how people even got her number, until Santana let them know that information like that was sold for good money at school. Quinn completely stopped entertaining any unknown callers after that to make sure their 'purchases' were rendered useless.

Then _All Star _sounds out in the room and Rachel picks up her own phone from her night table. "Hi, Daddy!" she greets merrily. "Yes, we just finished practicing… okay, I'm listening…"

Quinn notices the brunette's smile disappear and her face go pale. The blonde sits up, worry creasing her forehead. Chocolate brown eyes meet hers with a look of alarm.

"W-what… okay… a-alright, I understand… I will… okay." Rachel hangs up and opens her mouth to say something, but no words form.

The cheerleader moves closer to the brunette. "Rachel? Rachel, what's wrong?"

"I… I need you to take us to the hospital."

* * *

They've just arrived in the lobby of St. Luke's. Rachel is on the phone again, "We're here, Daddy… okay, see you in a bit."

Quinn raises a questioning eyebrow at the brunette as she turns to her. She had no idea of what was going on; Rachel hadn't said a word on the trip over, just fiddled with her fingers the entire time. She was worried, a lot more worried than she was letting on. But she hadn't wanted to push, so she just did as she had been asked and drove.

"Let's sit." the diva says.

"Okay."

They make their way to the chairs lined up against the wall to the side and settled down. Rachel angles her body towards the blonde and reaches out to grasp her hand. Quinn lets their fingers intertwine. She notices the diva's hand is shaking.

"Quinn, I… I'm sorry I didn't tell you this earlier, but I wasn't too sure how you'd react, and as you know I don't have my driver's permit yet, so I needed you to be able to drive." She pauses to swallow thickly, and Quinn squeezes her hand encouragingly through her own confusion. "Quinn…your mother had an accident."

The cheerleader feels her mind go blank. "What?"

"She fell down some stairs… at her office. She broke her arm. They— They took her into surgery. Daddy, he's a doctor, but not really, I mean he is, but he doesn't practice. He teaches. He's a university teacher, Public Health. But he was here today… he had some agenda with some friends of his who work here, and he… he was there when they brought her in. He recognized her last name."

Rachel studies Quinn's face for her reaction. The blonde is pretty much frozen. Her eyes have taken on a glazed appearance. So she presses on, "They tried to call you, but you didn't pick up… it must have been that unknown number from earlier. Daddy knew we would be rehearsing together this afternoon though, so he called me right away."

Quinn continues to remain motionless until Rachel squeezes her hand. The blonde blinks, so slowly it's almost excruciating. "Mom… is in surgery?" she croaks.

The diva nods, and adds a "Yes" when it's unclear if Quinn's mind had registered the movement.

The blonde takes a deep breath, and as she exhales, she sinks slowly into her seat, letting out a very long, very low exclamation of "Fuuuuuck."

Rachel instinctively wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls Quinn against her gently, but firmly.

"Rachel."

The brunette looks up and is met by the sight of her father standing over them. "Daddy…"

Jeremiah gives his daughter a small smile and then turns to the girl beside her, "Hey there, Quinn."

Quinn meets his sympathetic gaze and manages a weak smile, "H-hello, sir…"

The man tenderly places a hand on top of her head. "From what I know, there's nothing life-threatening about her situation. The doctors are going to do everything they can, okay? I need you to just wait here while they take care of her. Can you do that for me?"

The cheerleader nods numbly. "Just wait. Okay. I'll wait."

"Good girl." He turns to Rachel, "I'm going to call your dad and let him know what's going on and that he should order some take-out for himself. And I'll come back when I have more information. You watch over your friend here, okay kiddo?"

"Of course, daddy. I don't need to be told that." his daughter huffs.

Jeremiah presses a kiss to her cheek and also gives Quinn's knee a pat before leaving.

Quinn sags against Rachel more, closing her eyes and leaning her head on the brunette's shoulder. Rachel rubs her hand up and down Quinn's arm.

"I'm going to call Kurt, since his dad is close to your mom too, okay? They'll want to know. And then I'll borrow your phone and call your sister, alright?"

"Thank you…" Quinn mumbles. Her breath is warm against the brunette's collarbone.

"Anything you need."

* * *

Kurt and Burt arrived within the hour. Christina, Quinn's sister, is driving through the night from Boston with her best friend.

Currently, Quinn's head is in Rachel's lap. Her eyes stay shut as the brunette slides her hand repeatedly through Quinn's hair.

They're sharing Rachel's iPod. The diva skips over most of the showtunes that come up and tries to stick to songs she thinks Quinn would appreciate. Thankfully, she's gotten a better idea of the cheerleader's musical preferences recently.

Kurt, on the other hand, has Quinn's bare feet in his lap. He massages her soles and ankles soothingly. Both he and Rachel pretty much glare at anyone that looks like they would ask them to move (since Quinn is taking up three seats by herself). Burt sits on his son's other side, ignoring the disapproving looks he gets for allowing the younger ones to get away with it and burying his nose in a magazine instead.

Jeremiah Berry takes in this scene as he draws near them with a small, shrewd smile. He calls out softly. Four sets of eyes focus on him. He focuses on the pair that belongs to the girl his daughter is holding protectively.

"She's fine. They have her in room 310 now."

The blonde is up and sprinting towards the stairwell in an instant.

"Quinn! _Shoes! _…Oh, hell." Rachel throws her hands in the air and takes off after her.

* * *

She finally catches up to Quinn, who's standing motionless just inside the door of Judy's room, staring at her mother's equally motionless form. Rachel's gaze flicks between the two blondes. She sees Quinn's features morph from shocked, to pained, to hesitant. The brunette places a hand on the small of her back and pushes ever so slightly.

"It's okay, Quinn. Go to her."

The cheerleader advances towards the bed unsteadily. She takes Judy's hand, the one not sealed in a cast, and cups it between both of her own. "Mommy…"

It breaks Rachel's heart, the way her friend's voice sounds so small and scared.

The men finally arrive at the room. Kurt moves to flank Quinn's side opposite Rachel. His dad stands on the other side of the bed.

Jeremiah clears his throat and draws their attention. "This is Dr. Connor," He tilts his head towards a man beside him with graying hair, kind eyes, and white coat. "He's Judy's attending physician."

"You can call me Neil." he says to all of them, but mainly addressing the young blonde in the room, "Her surgery went well. She broke the bone in her forearm, but we reset it and it should heal properly. She'll have the cast for about six weeks. After that, it's best if she went for some physical therapy to get her arm back into full shape. She suffered no other major damage from the fall as far as we can tell, though we can't be 100% sure until she wakes up from the anesthesia." He smiles soothingly, "But it looks like your mom will be just fine. We hope to let her go home by tomorrow."

Quinn breathes in deeply and nods with a faint smile.

Rachel eyes turn from the blonde to the doctor, "Thank you, Dr. Neil, for taking care of her."

"My pleasure. I'll be around for a while and you can have the nurses page me." He pats Jeremiah on the shoulder, and leaves.

As soon as he steps out of the door, Quinn's knees buckle. Rachel manages to loop her arms around her waist before she hits the ground. Kurt, the past few hours of anticipation having frayed his nerves, screams in his panic.

"Kurt, this is not the time to be performing an _aria!_ Get a goddamn chair over here _now!_"

When Rachel Berry tells you to do something while cursing… you just do it.

The boy hurriedly slides an armchair towards them and Rachel falls back into it with Quinn's weight on top of her. She cradles the blonde in her lap and rocks her gently as Quinn finally lets her tears fall, crying silently into Rachel's hair.

"Shh… it's okay, Quinn, its okay… she's going to be okay…"

* * *

It's not very long before Judy wakes up. Burt is the first one who notices, because after Quinn had calmed down enough, Rachel had managed to get the cheerleader to snuggle with her on the ratty couch and watch Discovery Channel on the small TV provided. The diva had also just sent out her father and Kurt to hunt for edible food.

"Hey you. You gave us quite a scare there."

"Burt?"

"Mom?"

"Quinny…"

Mother and daughter hug (carefully, of course). Rachel hears Quinn mumbling a prayer of thanks.

Burt smiles reassuringly at Judy, "I'm gonna go call your doctor, okay? Don't go anywhere."

The woman laughs lightly, "Right. I'll stay put."

"How are you feeling, mom?" ventures Quinn.

Judy tentatively shifts a bit, eyeing the white cast encasing her arm. "Well, I've certainly seen better days, haven't I? But I feel alright. Just a little… sore. And more than a little foolish for being so clumsy."

Quinn pats her mom's shoulder affectionately, "It's okay. It's not your fault you're getting old."

They share a laugh and Quinn hugs her again. "I'm so glad you're okay, Mom."

"Me too, Quinny. Me, too." As they break apart, Judy turns to the other occupant in the room. "Hello there. You look familiar, but I don't believe we've met."

"This is Rachel, Mom."

The brunette shakes Judy's hand delicately, "Hello, Ms. Fabray. I wish we'd met under better circumstances." She smiles somewhat apologetically.

"Rachel…" the woman muses, obviously trying to place her. "Oh! Rachel Berry."

"Yes, ma'am." Rachel confirms a little stiffly as she watches things click into place in Judy's mind. Rachel Berry, the one with two dads— she shouldn't have a problem with that anymore, right? After all, she knew about Quinn—

"Rachel Berry, Glee club captain. Never stops talking. Small body, big voice." Judy's eyes glint with amusement as she turns to her daughter again, "Isn't that right, Quinny?"

Rachel smacks Quinn on the arm, "Is that what you _all_ tell your parents about me?"

"Well, it's true!" the blonde protests, "And I totally said it out of love!"

Both girls blush at the admission.

Judy grins, "I might also mention that she added _'even bigger heart'_ to that description, although I'm not quite sure she had meant for me to hear that part."

They blush harder.

At that moment, Burt returns with Dr. Neil, and Kurt and Jeremiah return bearing sandwiches.

Kurt raises an eyebrow at the two girls, "Hmm, I think we need to turn up the air-conditioning."

* * *

Santana, Brittany and Mercedes drop by just after Rachel has succeeded in forcing Quinn to finish her food despite her lack of appetite. They've brought a change of clothes, and toiletries, and a blanket and pillows for Quinn. All per Rachel's instructions, of course.

They don't stay long, because visiting hours only lasted for another half-hour, and they leave with Kurt and Burt after doling out well-wishes and hugs.

Rachel is allowed to stay for longer thanks to her Daddy's influence. If she had her way, she'd be staying the night with Quinn, even if she had to sleep on the floor. She gave up on the idea only after the blonde threatened to never, ever reveal what the word hiding under her wristband was, even if Rachel did guess correctly.

They go back to nestling together on the couch, watching some crappy B-movie they didn't catch the title of and criticizing everything about it while Judy slips in and out of sleep.

Eventually, they hear Jeremiah knock softly on the door, back from killing time by playing catch up with old colleagues. "Sorry, kiddo, but we should go. I'll meet you downstairs; I have to pick up some stuff at the desk."

"Okay."

The girls disentangle themselves from each other and Rachel grabs her purse. "So, Mercedes will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up for school, okay?"

Quinn glances at her mother, "Do I have to?"

The brunette smiles sympathetically, "I know you have your reservations about leaving her alone, but we already discussed this with your mom. She'll probably end up sleeping through most of the morning anyway, and the nurses are really great, and your sister will be arriving before noon and will be here when your mom gets discharged."

"She gets to miss school." the cheerleader grumbles.

"She's a college student, Quinn. Cutting class, it's what they do."

Quinn raises an eyebrow at her. "I don't think _you_ would skip class, even in college."

Rachel smirks. "You never know. Like you said, you may be rubbing off on me."

The blonde mock-gasps, "What, innocent li'l ol' me? Corrupt you?", then she grins, "Rachel the Rebel. Has a nice ring to it."

"Yes, well. We'll see. I'm stubborn, so corrupting me won't be that easy." chuckles the diva.

Quinn tilts her head cockily. "I dunno, Berry. I'm kind of hard to resist."

Inwardly, Rachel is thinking _'You don't know the half of it'_. Outwardly, she rolls her eyes. "I'll see you at school, Quinn."

The cheerleader smiles and wraps her arms around Rachel's shoulders. "Thank you, Rachel, for everything. Good night."

Rachel's hands flex lightly on the blonde's hips. "Good night."

* * *

The next afternoon after school, Mercedes drives them home to Quinn's. Christina's beat-up SUV is in the garage.

Upon entering the living room, they find Quinn's mom, her sister, and a girl with chin-length red hair, freckles, and glasses over shocking green eyes. And she was, to put it simply, hot.

She smiles rather deviously when she sees them, "Hey, Quinn."

The cheerleader goes a little red in the face, and she swallows. "Jacqueline. Hi."

Both Judy and Christina cough.

Jacqueline flushes too, and the two girls look away from each other.

Mercedes lips form an "O" shape, and she bobs her head slowly up and down. "_Daym_, girl!" she whisper-shouts at Quinn, "Score!"

The blonde whimpers. Rachel is stuck gaping.

Judy stands and moves towards the kitchen, "I'm going to make some popcorn." When both daughters try to object, she holds up a hand, "Its _microwave_ popcorn. I still have one fully functioning limb, thank you."

Christina comes up to them then and envelopes Quinn in a tight embrace. "Good to see you again, li'l sis."

"You too, C."

The elder Fabray sibling winks at Mercedes and Rachel. "Hey. I'm Chris. The one on the couch is Jack. Feel free to ignore her."

"Hey!"

"Uh _huh_." says Mercedes with a grin, obviously still highly entertained by the situation, "Mercedes Jones."

"Rachel Berry." the diva says, obviously not nearly as amused.

"We were just about to pop in a DVD." informs Christina, "You should watch with us."

"I… don't know…" Quinn hesitates, glancing at Jacqueline.

The redhead smirks, "C'mon Quinn. I won't bite you." Pause. "Again." Another pause. "Maybe. I'm here till Sunday after all."

Rachel wants to bang her head against the wall as her imagination kicks off again.

Quinn drops her face in her hands. "Kill. me. now."

Jacqueline chuckles, "Aw, you weren't this bashful a couple of months back. What happened to that feisty blonde I met?"

Quinn glares.

"There she is! That cheerleading uniform looks great on you, by the way." the redhead remarks, not bothering to disguise the leer that lingered on the pleated skirt.

The blonde huffs, but then smirks and places a hand on her hip, "I know. Red has always been my color."

Mercedes covers her mouth, masking her subdued but thrilled exclamation of "O-ho! Hell to the yeah!" (Quinn and Rachel hear it perfectly though.)

Jacqueline twirls a lock of her hair around her finger, "Is that so? So you like red?"

Rachel thinks she might scream. Her emotions are bouncing around like ping-pong balls inside her, and they're too fast and too many for her to get a hold of any one of them. But she does know that she wants to strangle this girl and its taking a lot of self-control not to.

Fortunately, Christina steps in and kicks her best friend in the shin, "Stop it, you. We're staying in my mom's house, which means she _lives_ here, and I'd really rather not have to go through an even _more_ awkward experience than what happened in the summer. Need I remind _how_ awkward that was? It was _awkward!_"

"But Chrisssss…" Jacqueline whines, "You _know_ I hate not finishing something that I've started!" A meaningful glace is sent Quinn's way. "And besides, your mom adores me."

"And that's the only reason we all got away with it last time. Don't push it."

The redhead pouts, "Fine. But I wouldn't need to hit on your cute little sister if you would just put out for me."

"Babe. I love you. But no, I like penis."

"You _have_ seen the strap-on I own, haven't you?"

* * *

Things progress smoothly for rest of the day. Jacqueline obediently ceases the shameless flirting, and turns out to be really rather pleasant. Still, Rachel feels a pang of apprehension when she and Mercedes have to leave before dinner, both having promised their parents that they would eat at home.

"Quinn?" Rachel queries as they step outside.

The blonde leans against the doorjamb with a raised eyebrow. She already suspects the nature of the question.

Rachel falters, but proceeds, "It wouldn't happen to be Chastity, would it?" (She wonders why she thinks she sounds slightly hopeful.)

Quinn goes bug-eyed, and then laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

"I'll take that as a no."

* * *

Thursday is as normal as it comes. In glee, they've finalized plans for a club slumber party at school tomorrow night. It was going to be both an extended rehearsal session for the upcoming Invitationals and a fun team-building/bonding thing. They couldn't reach a consensus whether to have it at Tina's or at Matt's, so Mr. Schue suggested 'neutral ground'. They agreed because of 1) the need to compromise, 2) their curiosity of what the campus was like at night, and 3) the endless potential for mischief.

Rachel texts Quinn that night:

_Please tell me you're not trying to save to world or something and that it isn't something ludicrous like 'Justice'._

The reply comes in ten seconds later:

_I'd need that lightsaber first._

_

* * *

_

The sleepover is epic.

They get the rehearsals and run-throughs out of the way first, because Rachel won't have it any other way. Duh.

Then they wind down with pizza and charades. The boys' team loses horribly because the girls kept making their representative act out romantic comedies which none of them knew, and no matter what they threw at the girls, one of them always got it (mystery/suspense: Tina, horror: Mercedes, musicals/animation: Rachel, sci-fi/fantasy: Quinn, action: Santana, porn: Brittany).

After that, they brought out the mattresses they had gotten the previous year from the 'Jump' commercial. Which, of course, resulted in one huge pillow fight. The boys got their revenge, mostly.

When they were finally tired out from that, they sat around and told ghost stories. Mr. Schue knew a lot of them. At one point, Mike ended up jumping into Finn's lap.

Suddenly, Puck perks up. "Dude." he says, slapping the back of his hand against Finn's chest, "It's September 21."

Finn scrunches his eyebrows together, "Is it someone's birthday?"

"No, doofus! C'mon! _September 21!_"

The boy still looks puzzled. So do most of their friends.

It's Brittany who provides clarity, giggling, _"Do you remember the twenty-first night of September?"_

Everybody's face lights up, and Puck gives her a high-five, "_That's_ my girl!

"Actually, I'm Santana's."

Santana smirks proudly and kisses her.

"Whatever. Finn, get behind the drums. Artie, you know this shit?"

"Who doesn't?" he replies, already wheeling his way towards his electric guitar.

"Awesome, back me up here. Now, who can take keyboards?"

"Leave it to _moi_." Kurt says haughtily, rushing to the synthesizer.

Mr. Schue picks up a trumpet, "I've got the brass covered, guys!"

"Righteous! Then all we need is… Quinn!"

The blonde, who is sitting practically draped around Rachel, with her chin resting on the brunette's shoulder, raises an eyebrow.

"Aw, c'mon, you love this song!"

"I'm tired, and comfortable. I don't want to get up." she drawls.

Rachel giggles, unconsciously leaning back a little more against her.

Puck pouts, actually _pouts_, "Pwetty pwease with sugar lumps on top?"

"Oh my god, please don't do that, I'll have nightmares." Santana gags, "What happened to your pride, Puckerman?"

"It's _Earth, Wind and Fire! _I am willing to sacrifice my pride for that."

Brittany tilts her head, "What would Q play anyway?"

The boy with the Mohawk picks up an electric bass and holds it out in Quinn's direction. Everybody else gawks at her, with the exception of Finn who has that signature goofy grin of his on.

"You play the bass?" Rachel asks astonished, angling to get a better look at Quinn's face.

The cheerleader shrugs, "If you hang out with Finn and Puck long enough, you pick up on a few things. And I _was _Finn's girlfriend for half a year, and their friend for even longer before that."

"We made her learn so our jam sessions would be complete. She can be pretty kick-ass at video games too."

"Quinn Fabray, you're just full of surprises." Rachel murmurs.

Quinn chuckles, and says in a low British accent, "You have no idea."

Finn laughs, "C'mon, Uncle Scar. For old time's sake, what d'ya say?"

The blonde's demeanor softens and she gives Finn a crooked smile, "Alright, alright."

"Great, now get your pretty butt up here." Puck urges.

[ A/N: link to song at www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=fiHbh8iCT_U (Earth, Wind and Fire - September + bass cover), this is how Quinn plays it. Or how I play it. ]

Soon enough, Quinn has the bass strapped to her. Finn gives the count off, "One, two, three and—"

Puck and Kurt fire up the intro, and then rest of the instruments come in on cue.

Mike, Matt, Brittany and Santana start a dance-off in the middle of the floor.

Rachel, of course, rocks the first solo.

_Do you remember the 21st night of September?  
__Love was changing the minds of pretenders  
__While chasing the clouds away_

For the second verse, however, she is surprisingly content to let Tina take the vocal reins and watch Quinn deftly slide her hand up and down the neck of her guitar instead.

_Our hearts were ringing  
__In the key that our souls were singing  
__As we danced in the night  
__Remember how the stars stole the night away?_

Mike pulls her into a swing dance for the chorus. Matt does the same for Tina, and Mercedes is free to belt out the refrain.

_Ha Ha Ha!  
__Ba de ya – say, do you remember?  
__Ba de ya – dancing in September!  
__Ba de ya – never was a cloudy day!_

She ends up beside Quinn when Mike spins her out. The bassist grins and bumps hips with her. Everyone is singing now.

_My thoughts are with you  
__Holding hands with your heart to see you_

Hazel and chocolate lock together.

_Only blue talk and love  
__Remember how we knew love was here to stay…_

___

* * *

_

Mr. Schue had them retire at 11, much to the chagrin of most of them because it was Friday, for crying out loud. The boys are sleeping in the classroom across the hall, separate from the girls. Except for Kurt, naturally. Quinn threw Santana and Brittany into Mr. Schue's office so that none of them would have to wake up in the middle of the night to sex screams. Mr. Schue himself took up residence alone in the nurse's office.

Rachel has been lying spread-eagled and staring at the choir room ceiling for the better part of an hour now. For some reason, she can still hear the blood rushing in her ears. Shouldn't her adrenaline high be gone by now? The others are all fast asleep already, she can tell.

She closes her eyes and sighs. It's been such an eventful week. Why isn't she the least bit tired? She starts lecturing herself in her own mind about the importance of proper rest because she's starting to get impatient with herself—

A light bulb goes off in her head. She grins so widely, it makes her cheeks ache. In her enthusiasm, she practically leaps out bed and onto the girl on the mattress next to hers.

"Quinn! Quinn, are you awake?" she calls, but not so loudly because she's still somewhat mindful of the others sleeping in the room.

The blonde grunts as she feels herself being shaken, "I am now, Berry. What is it? If you want to go join the boys in vandalizing Coach's trophies, just go. I'm too sleepy."

Rachel grin grows even more, "You're not mad."

Quinn cracks her eyes open just slightly, "Do you _want_ me to be?"

The diva shakes her head, still smiling, "And your mom was in surgery this week."

"…and? Rachel, are you feeling alright?"

"Your mom was in surgery and you waited. You _waited_." She has a look of absolute triumph on her face as she leans over the blonde, "You should have been pacing the halls and pestering the nurses every five minutes! But you weren't. You sat quietly with me and Kurt, and you waited_, _for _hours. You_ don't _do_ that."

Quinn slowly props herself up on her elbows. "I was in shock?"

"I might believe that, if not for the fact that you also haven't interrupted me mid-ramble for a _single_ time all week. And that you didn't complain even_ once _when I was coaching you for your solo; you let me push you until _I _was satisfied. And that you didn't bite my head off just now, when roused unceremoniously from your slumber." She crosses her arms across her chest. "It's Patience!"

The cheerleader stares at her impassively for a moment. Then she stretches her arm out and grabs her cellphone. She glances at the screen. "Oh my god, 11:59? Seriously? _One_ minute left on the timer and she _gets_ it!" She rolls her eyes and drops back down onto her back. "Only you, Twinkle."

Rachel's breath catches somewhat. "Twinkle?" she asks softly.

"Yeah," Quinn lifts her head slightly, "is that okay?"

The brunette smiles warmly, "Yeah. Yeah, I like that one."

Quinn smiles back, "Good, coz I like it too." Then she glances at her phone again, "Oh look, midnight. I can be cranky again. Get off me, Berry, I _really_ want to sleep right now, and I can't do that with you straddling me."

Rachel scoffs, "Quinn, what is the point of you trying to practice virtue if— eep!"

The diva suddenly finds herself the one being pinned to the mattress. Quinn's face hovers mere inches away from hers, sporting her trademark smirk. "Good night, Twinkle." It's a whisper that's sardonic, but tender.

Quinn rolls to the right, flopping onto her front. Her side stays pressed against the length of Rachel's, and her left arm remains draped across the brunette's collarbone.

Rachel smiles again. Her fingers reach for the white wristband, delicately pushing it aside. The word is faded now, and smudged in some places. But its there. _Patience._

Belatedly, she realizes that the position they're falling asleep in will probably beg a few questions in the morning from their friends (and maybe, it strikes her, from herself). But, she figures, some things can wait.

"Good night, Quinn."

Rachel feels the faintest brush of lips against her shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry this took so long! The first part of this chapter may have been written on crack; just to give you fair warning. And the second part… wasn't. This was hard to write for me, and I still have mixed feelings about it whether I like it or not, so I would truly appreciate any feedback (for both halves). The last chapter is pretty much done too, and it'll be up once my pet Nazi (beta) has a look at it. Rating raised for mentions of drug use.

* * *

**Chapter 05**

The captain of the Cheerios appraises the word on her wrist. "_Spontaneity_." she enunciates, with an air of detachment.

The captain of the Glee Club nods enthusiastically. "Yes! After much consideration, I came to the conclusion that you, Quinn, are still hindered by the inhibitions ingrained into you by your upbringing. You also, by and large, possess the need to constantly dominate any situation you find yourself in. This is most true when it comes to the public domain and social settings. You are, after all, considerably more laid-back in the presence of your friends, but even then, not completely."

"In other words, you think I'm a repressed control-freak." Quinn deadpans.

Rachel's face falls. "N-no! I mean, yes— no! I just—" she bites her bottom lip, ducks her head down and continues in a whisper, "I just want you to be yourself."

The blonde regards her levelly for a few long moments. Rachel fidgets with the ends of her sleeves. Then Quinn looks at the ink decorating her skin again. "And how long did you practice your calligraphy?"

"…Umm." The diva tilts her head back and looks at the ceiling as she counts off her fingers, "five hour—" And then she notices the telltale twitch in Quinn's jaw. "You are _so_ mean."

Quinn snorts and grins. "You make it way too easy for me."

Rachel rolls her eyes, but then she smiles timidly. "So you… you like it?"

The cheerleader opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. She worries her lip between her teeth. "Well… I'm not entirely sure it's such a good idea." she admits, leaning on her locker with a small sigh. She then smirks. "I might end up sending everyone into a coma. Think the world can handle the real Quinn Fabray?"

The brunette laughs a little and nods encouragingly. "I truly think it's their loss if they can't." she says, conviction lacing her voice, as well as some affection.

Quinn pauses again, and then shrugs casually. "Okay then." She glances at her watch. "We have Trigonometry right now for second, don't we?"

"Yes." Rachel replies.

"Awesome." Quinn pushes off her locker and begins to walk off.

Rachel blinks. "Quinn. Class is the other way."

The cheerleader looks over her shoulder. "I know."

"Where are you going then?"

"Nowhere important."

The diva frowns in confusion. "You're not attending? But you have a perfect record… like I do. You never cut class."

"Uh huh. _Never_."

That mischievous glint flashes in Quinn's eyes, and Rachel finally catches on. A slow grin spreads across her face. "May I join you in this impulsive and irresponsible undertaking?"

And the blonde's expression mirrors hers as it breaks into a wide smile. "I dunno, Berry. Can you be spontaneous? What about your perfect record?"

"We'll consider it an early onset of the advent of Rachel the Rebel."

Quinn laughs, "I told you I was hard to resist."

* * *

Rachel Berry really is a rather clever girl. She's always gotten good grades, even long before she was ever in on the Conspiracy (but boy, did that make things so much easier). She's actually pretty witty, and she can think on her feet, and she's a very fast learner when it comes to most things.

Aside from that, she's also the type of person to spend a generous amount of time thinking about… well, herself. It isn't narcissism, its self-awareness. Mostly about her talents. She knows what she's good at, and when, where, and how to fully utilize those talents. She's also quite aware of her weaknesses. Even she can't deny that she can sometimes be annoying, bossy, tactless, obsessive… you get the picture. She also tries to stay in tune with her emotions.

So it's really not surprising that she's able to figure out that she has a great, big, (massive, flaming, hardcore) crush on Quinn Fabray.

She would've realized it sooner, really, except that there was just so much happening last week that she didn't have the time to dwell on her feelings, and how they were evolving. But after the club slumber party, she had an entire, quiet weekend to herself to ruminate. It didn't take very long to put two and two together. Because, like, _hello!_

Figuring out what to do about said crush, however, was an entirely different story. Dealing with the objects of her past affections had been relatively simple. Finn, Puck, Jesse — they were easy to read and consequently more or less predictable. In contrast, Quinn has always been the exact opposite. She's complex; even back when the blonde was making it her personal mission to make Rachel's life hell, Rachel always sensed there was more to her than the bitch persona she displayed. And somewhat ironically, the more Rachel got to know her, the more unpredictable she seemed to become.

She really doesn't know what to expect of Quinn.

Nevertheless, the way Rachel chooses to see it is that it can go both ways — she can't assume that Quinn has feelings for her too, but that also means she can't assume that Quinn doesn't.

Because, like we've established, she's not dense. As she looks back on their interactions since the start of the school year, there are things that give the impression that Quinn might _possibly_ like her as more than a friend. For one thing, there's been a surge of physical affection between them ever since that afternoon at the hospital (and Rachel is ashamed to admit that she is morbidly grateful to some extent that Judy Fabray broke her arm). But mainly, it's the way the blonde looks at her sometimes or the way she says something, like there _could_ be… a deeper meaning to it. But, as of now, she doesn't have enough to go on.

She needs more information.

This is going to be a challenge, she can tell. But, as everyone knows, she's not one to back down from a challenge. She'd won the bet with Quinn, hadn't she? In fact, she was going to use that now to her advantage. She needed the blonde to reveal more of herself. So she would pick a word that she feels is very meaningful to Quinn's manifest pursuit of righteousness, but also one that would aid her as a means to her own ends.

She came up with the perfect one.

Nothing could have prepared her for the results that followed.

The first of which was witnessing Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman getting stoned under the bleachers.

"Quinnnnn! I knew you'd come around one of these days!" calls Puck, wiggling his eyebrows at them as they come closer. "And you brought Raaaaachel. Nice."

The blonde smirks. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Puck, but pot still doesn't appeal to me."

"Is that what that smell is?" Rachel asks, scrunching her nose. "I don't suppose a lecture on the ramifications of using Cannabis—" Puck and Quinn shake their heads. "Right, I didn't think so." She sits down beside Quinn instead.

"Weed is good for the world. It makes people happy. Just look at m'boy Finn here."

They all look at Finn, who hasn't said a word yet. He's looking intently at a spot on the ground between himself and Puck.

"Whoa." says Puck. He scrutinizes his joint. "That really is some Grade A shit. Hudson's already gone, baby, gone."

Finn grins all of a sudden. "Duuude, look, the little purple bear is doing the _Single Ladies_ dance. We should put him on the football team!" he says, never averting his gaze.

"Sweet." replies his best friend.

Rachel scrutinizes the grass Finn is staring at; her face is a mixture of curious and appalled.

"So what are you two doin' here if you didn't come to get high?" Puck inquires.

"To watch you make fools of yourselves. And to ditch Trig." replies Quinn.

The footballer grimaces. "Word. Mrs. Ford is a bitch." He takes a drag. "Nice rack though, and pretty good in bed."

The diva gasps. "Noah! She's married! And both of you could get kicked out this school!"

"MILF's a MILF, Berry. And I have to pass her class somehow, seeing as I'm usually right here while it's happening."

Quinn shakes her head at him. "How did it take me this long to figure out I was gay?"

"You're a repressed control-freak." Rachel responds with a straight face.

The blonde shoves her playfully. Rachel giggles.

"Maybe if you had gotten to know Mary Jane here," Puck points to his joint, "you would've figured it out sooner." He grins, "She turns you on like nothing else."

Finn looks up at the sky out of the blue and chants "mailman" several times. When he lowers his gaze again, he catches sight of the girls and grins, "Oh, hey Rachel, hey Quinn!" Then he goes back to staring at that spot on the ground.

Rachel looks utterly baffled. "Are we sure he's alright?"

"Relax. It's not as bad as the first time he got stoned." Quinn chuckles.

"He can be _worse?_ Goodness, what was he like?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "He had too many hits too fast or something. It was like he was experiencing déjà vu times ten. Call his name only once, and he hears it ten times. So he was all, 'Why do you keep calling my name? Why do we keep walking up the stairs? I'm not going to wash my face that many times, it might disappear!'"

The diva actually laughs. Puck smirks at the memory. "That was epic."

"It was a nightmare, Puckerman, because you left me to take care of him alone while you boned some chick in the bathroom."

He shrugs. "The Puckanator has needs."

Rachel stops laughing to glare at Puck. "That wasn't very nice of you, Noah."

Quinn sighs. "I had to sit with him in his car until it wore off. Thankfully, he couldn't figure out how to unbuckle his seatbelt, so it was easy to make him stay put. He doesn't remember any of it either. I pretty much swore off drugs forever that night."

"Shame." intones Puck.

The brunette taps her chin thoughtfully. "But what if you experienced an orgasm while in that state?"

There is silence as their eyes glaze over. Finally, Quinn says "Maybe I should reconsider drugs after all."

Finn looks up at them again. "Dude, where's my car?"

* * *

They attend their next couple of classes, which are separate, and meet up again at lunch. Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Kurt and Mercedes are already crowded around a table meant for four when Quinn arrives. But instead of pulling up another chair, the blonde abruptly plops herself down onto Santana's lap, hooking one arm around the girl's neck for support.

"Uh, Q… what are you doing?" the startled Latina inquires. The rest of them exchange puzzled looks as well.

"Eating." replies Quinn. She pops a chicken nugget into her mouth.

"But _why_ are you sitting on me?"

The head cheerleader grins, "Coz I wuuuuuv you, Santana!" Her exclamation is loud enough to draw the attention of half the cafeteria.

Santana clamps a hand on Quinn's mouth and hisses, "What is with you? Are you high?"

At this point, Rachel and Brittany are cracking up. "She doesn't do drugs." Rachel manages to wheeze out.

"At least, not yet." amends Quinn with a wink.

"Then why are you acting like a 5-year-old, Q?"

"Coz I wuuuu—mmph!"

"Okay, okay! You can stay where you are, just _don't _do that!"

The blonde nods, eyes shining with mirth. And at this point, Kurt and Mercedes are also in hysterics.

The Latina lets out a long suffering sigh. "And how am _I_ supposed to eat now?"

Quinn ponders this for a moment. Then she picks up Santana's fork, twirls some pasta onto it, and brings it slowly towards Santana's mouth. Complete with airplane noises.

"For the love of— knock it off, Fabr— Quinn, put the fork _down!_"

Their friends are howling and banging their fists on the table. Quinn chortles, drops the fork back onto Santana's tray, and then hugs her.

"I should disown you." the Latina grouses. "Seriously, what's gotten into you? Berry, did you have something to do with this? I swear I'm going to _kill_ you."

"But Santana," Rachel coos, "I wuuu—"

"Don't. Even."

Brittany places a hand on Santana's shoulder, grinning. "Aw, you know you wuv us too, S."

Santana groans loudly and drops her forehead onto Quinn's shoulder. They can all see the corner of her lip curved up into a smirk though.

Quinn and Rachel high-five.

* * *

It's the beginning of sixth period and Rachel's chemistry teacher is just entering the room. Before he can close the door behind him, they hear a shriek coming from the hallway.

Suddenly, the class sees one Mike Chang rush past the door, carrying one Quinn Fabray on his back, who in turn is carrying a tennis racquet and what looks like a bag of tomatoes. Their footsteps taper off, and then stop, and then get louder again. The two reappear in the doorway.

Mike waves (as much as he can without any danger of dropping the cheerleader). Quinn grins, "Hi Rachel, hi Artie!"

Before Rachel and Artie can react, they've disappeared again, whooping down the corridor.

"Do I want to know?" the boy in the wheelchair asks Rachel, trying to his best to ignore the stares they're now getting from their classmates.

The brunette bites the inside of her cheek and smiles to herself. "Well. I sure do."

* * *

At the end of the day, Rachel climbs into her Daddy's car and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Just as Jeremiah is about to shift into gear, a head pops up by his open window. He startles slightly, then smiles. "Hi, Quinn."

The blonde narrows her eyes, and then points a finger at his nose. "Jerry Berry." she pronounces.

After a beat, he laughs heartily. "Oh my _god_, I haven't been called that in ten years! I should've known it would come back to haunt me." He turns to his daughter. "I don't know why I didn't make your dad take my last name instead."

Both girls giggle. Quinn meets Rachel's eyes, "See you tomorrow?"

There's just the barest hint of shyness in the blonde's voice. _That's ne_w, Rachel thinks, but she likes it. A lot. "See you tomorrow." she responds warmly.

Quinn grins and nods once before turning on her heel and racing to Cheerios practice.

If tomorrow is even half the day that today was, Rachel believes she's in for a treat.

* * *

The next morning, Rachel is spun around rather violently while she's organizing the inside of her locker. Kurt grabs her by the collar, "Have you seen Quinn?" His tone is desperate and panicked.

Rachel's eyes go wide and she shakes her head. "Why?" she asks, worry evident.

The boy curses under his breath. "She stole my hair clay this morning after Cheerios practice! I can't work like this, Rachel! How am I supposed to face the day when it looks like, like, like, I have a flying squirrel that rode a roller coaster on my head? How?"

The diva blinks slowly. Then she looks at his hair. "It looks fine to me?"

Kurt huffs and sticks his nose in the air. "You know _nothing!_"

She watches him stomp away and turn the corner before she collapses against her locker, shaking with mirth.

_I may have created a monster._

_

* * *

_

Quinn is a bit late to lunch again. This time, she arrives with Tina. Matt sees them first and he chokes on his soda, spraying it all over Puck.

"Dude, not cool." says the boy with the Mohawk.

Matt points. They look. More of them choke on their food and drinks. Quinn leans her elbow on Tina's shoulder as they come to stand by the table. They're sporting matching smirks.

Also, matching make-up.

Rachel's eyes rake over the cheerleader. Thick black eyeliner, red hair highlights, the black version of the Cheerios top, silver skull pendant, studded leather wristband on one arm, fishnet arm-warmer on the other, short black skirt trimmed with black lace, and those black boots she recognizes from the week before accessorized with small silver chains.

And the brunette is pretty sure she can speak the English language, but right now, for the life of her, she just can't remember _how_.

Santana does, apparently, although it takes her a while too. "Has coach seen you like that, Amy Lee?"

Quinn raises a smug eyebrow, "Actually, yeah."

"She said 'Q, if you're going to slash your wrists, just do it in Bambi's office so I can derive some amusement from your death and it wouldn't be a total waste.'" Tina supplies as the two of them take their seats.

"And then we passed Figgins, and he ran away screaming 'Oh lord, there's even more of them now!'"

Everyone at the table laughs and the shock visibly fades.

"I am so bummed you're not straight right now." Puck mumbles.

Kurt nods. "I'm kinda bummed that _I'm_ not straight right now."

"I'm kinda bummed that I _am_." quips Mercedes.

They stare at her.

"What? I may be one of the first to cut you down if what you're wearin' makes my eyes bleed, but the opposite is also true. And my girl is looking mighty fine, aight? S'all I'm sayin'."

Quinn bumps fists with Mercedes and smiles at Tina, who's looking quite proud of her work.

"Rachel's not." pipes Brittany.

"Not what, Britt?" Finn asks for the rest of them.

"Straight. Or at least not, like, totally."

They stare at Rachel. The brunette tries to hide behind her juice.

"Oh my god," exclaims Puck, "it just figures that the one person among us who has any shot at Quinn now is _Berry_."

"Hey." Quinn growls, and reflexively reaches out to stroke the diva's nape in a soothing manner. Oddly enough, Rachel feels her nerves crackle even more instead of calm.

Puck raises his hands in surrender, "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just saying life's funny that way."

There are murmurs of agreement, and then the group naturally dissolves into their separate conversations again.

"You alright, Twinkle?" Quinn asks her softly. "You're all quiet."

The brunette clears her throat a bit, finally regaining control of her voice, "Yes, I'm fine. No need to worry, I wasn't offended by why Noah said." The truth was, the notion that she was the only not-completely-straight, unattached female other than Quinn in their group had never occurred to her. It actually coaxes out an unadulterated smile, which gets Quinn to immediately relax, which makes her smile even more. "So, is this a look we'll be seeing regularly?"

The cheerleader chuckles, "Not really. I feel a little… self-conscious, actually. I just wanted to try it once. Besides, it's Tina's thing." Her eyebrow quirks up, "Anyway, still think I'm repressing my innermost, darkest desires?"

Rachel shakes her head ruefully. _No, that would be me right now, I think._

_

* * *

_

In the middle of glee, while Brittany and Mike are helping Mr. Schuester cook up some new choreography for their latest number, Quinn tugs Rachel's arm into her lap and pulls out a pen.

"Quinn, wha—"

"Shut up, Twinkle. I'm working." the blonde says as she presses the ballpoint to Rachel's palm.

The diva can't really complain because she rather likes the feeling of Quinn's fingertips brushing over her skin. Then Matt calls her attention and points to the moves Brittany is currently pulling off. He quietly makes a few suggestions to her. She nods and repeats them out loud for the others to hear. Mike immediately tries out the recommended steps, then grins and voices his approval. Rachel turns to Matt again with smile, and he smiles back. The brunette had discovered a while ago that he could come up with some pretty good ideas; he was always just too shy to let them be known. She had encouraged him to be more outspoken. He was still reserved about speaking in front of the whole club, but he had started giving her his opinions more often, and left it to her to convey them to the rest. It was a somewhat strange, quiet relationship, but they both appreciated it.

Suddenly, she feels a cool breath against her palm. She faces Quinn again, just as the blonde returns Rachel's hand to her own lap and pats it with a smirk. Then Santana comes and yanks the head cheerleader out of her seat and to the front where the Latina gets her to help demonstrate some acrobatic feat.

Rachel looks down at her lap, flipping her hand over. She then smiles at the drawing of a G-clef composed of tiny stars on her skin.

There are goosebumps on her arm and butterflies in her stomach and Quinn's musical laughter in her ear.

* * *

They all end up loitering around parking lot after glee. It's one of those easy times when no one was in a hurry to go anywhere. They're just chatting idly about random things, like how a bird ended up pooping on Jacob Ben Israel's head earlier, and how Suzy Pepper went all psycho on said bird (she chased it around the field with a spoon), and just how creepy is it that those two stalkers are a couple now anyway?

Then Kurt's brow furrows. "Quinn? Isn't that your car? I thought you needed a ride home today."

Quinn turns, and sure enough, there's her mom's dark green BMW cruising down the road towards them. "I did. C was supposed to take Mom to the hospital this afternoon."

"Your sister is still in town?" Rachel inquires.

"Oh. Yeah. Apparently, there's a pest problem in their college building. Something about finding a rat colony in the basement last Sunday. I know, ew, right? Anyway, their classes have been canceled while it's being taken care of and they don't have to be back till Thursday."

At that moment, the car pulls up in front of them, and they watch as a redhead steps gracefully out of the driver's seat.

Quinn's eyebrows shoot up. "Jack?"

"Quinn." Jacqueline greets, leaning back against the door with a smirk.

Puck lets out a wolf-whistle. Kurt's jaw drops as his gaze flicks between Quinn and the redhead, and Mercedes whispers "I told you so" in his ear. Brittany and Santana wave, having met Jacqueline three summers ago. Rachel feels herself bristling and instinctively takes a step closer to Quinn.

"What are you doing here?" the blonde asks. Her tone is mostly curious. "I told you I'd just hitch."

Jacqueline shrugs. "Chris and Judy decided to go out to dinner for some mother-daughter bonding after they finished getting Judy's arm checked again. Which leaves just you and me, so I thought we could go somewhere. It's the last night of my impromptu vacation. If I can, I'd rather spend it out of the house."

Rachel doesn't like where this is going at all. Quinn rolls her eyes, "And I'm sure you already have somewhere in mind to drag me to."

"You bet I do." the redhead grins, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I found a cinema in Columbus that's still showing _Inception_. I know you've been dying to see it as much as I have."

"_Columbus?_" exclaims Rachel. The cheerleader, however, has her interest piqued, and it shows.

Jacqueline's grin widens, sensing she's close to having her way. "It'll be fun! With this baby," she jerks her thumb back at the car, "we'll make it in an hour and a half, maybe even less. And if we leave right now, there'll be plenty of time to be back before curfew. Your mom and sister never need to know. It'll be our little secret."

A devilish look crosses Quinn's features. "I'm driving."

Rachel gapes at her in disbelief even as the redhead chuckles and tosses her the keys. "Sure. I'm only too happy to just sit back and enjoy the ride while we're… _bonding_." Jacqueline says with a wink.

"Ha, ha, Jack. Get in the car."

"Y'know, the last time you said that—"

"_Jack!_" the cheerleader yells, her cheeks tingeing pink.

"You are _cute_ when you blush." quips the redhead, slinking to other side of the car and hopping into the passenger seat. Rachel internally debates the merits of trying to chase her away with a spoon. Or a club. Or a chainsaw.

Quinn is rolling her eyes. Santana pats her shoulder and says "Have fun" with a smirk as Brittany hugs her quickly; their pinkies entwine and they walk off. Most of the others say their goodbyes and begin to disperse too.

"Call us later, sister," Mercedes instructs, wiggling her eyebrows. "I want all the dirty details."

"If you're not too tired, that is. Or otherwise too busy." Kurt adds with a chuckle.

Quinn feigns hurt. "But Kurtsie, you know I would never cheat on you!"

"Darlin', she's wearing Salvatore Ferragamo heels. I would totally forgive your indiscretion. But how did she drive in those things?"

The blonde slaps his butt and he yelps a bit, but laughs. Quinn turns to Rachel. "See you tomorrow?" There's that faintly timid timbre again.

And for a moment, Rachel completely forgets about the redhead waiting in Quinn's car (or anyone else, actually), and she smiles. "See you tomorrow."

Quinn grins, just like she did last time, and gives the brunette a one-armed hug.

Over the cheerleader's shoulder, Rachel sees Jacqueline smirk pointedly at her. She glares back with as much indignation as she can muster, and fights the urge to drag Quinn as far away from here as possible. It simply would not do to end up looking like an irrational, lunatic kidnapper. Besides, Rachel knew from several hours of hearing Quinn rant about the 'stupid, annoying circumstances' that prevented her from seeing _Inception_ when it first came out that she really wanted to see that movie.

"Say hi to Jerry Berry for me." Quinn chuckles as she backs away.

The diva smiles again, though this one's more forced (she hopes it isn't obvious), and nods, "Sure."

The blonde slides into the car with a final wave. As it pulls away from the curb, they hear the lilt of Jacqueline's voice drift out from within, "So I love your outfit…"

Rachel sighs forlornly and faces Kurt and Mercedes. "Do you really think that they'll…" she trails off, unwilling to finish that thought out loud.

Kurt shrugs. "End up reenacting Nickelback's _Animals?_ I don't know for sure. But I will say this… Jacqueline looks like the type of girl that gets what she wants. Either way though, we're sure to have some juicy gossip tomorrow."

* * *

When she sees Quinn in Literature on Wednesday morning and the cheerleader says nothing about the previous night other than to gush about the film, Rachel takes that as a good sign and chooses not to ask anything more. After all, nothing of note could have happened if Quinn didn't feel the importance to divulge whatever else went on, right? And Chris and Jack were already on their way back to Boston, so she could now leave the redhead far from her concerns.

But, needless to say, the rest of their friends just had to launch into an interrogation at lunch.

"So I couldn't help but notice that you didn't give my phone a ring last night, Quinn." Mercedes starts. "And I couldn't help but wonder why."

The blonde rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest. "There's nothing to tell."

"You heard her." Rachel hurriedly interjects. "Can we just drop this topic?"

"Q's lying." Brittany declares simply. "I'm thirsty. Can I buy a slushie?"

Santana reaches for her wallet, and then freezes. "Crap. I must've left it in my locker after changing from practice."

Quinn produces her own wallet and tosses it to the Latina.

"Thanks, Q." She takes out enough for Brittany's drink and sends the girl on her way. "But don't think you're getting out of spilling the beans." she says with a smirk. "You should've known B would bust you."

The blonde groans. "It was just embarrassing, okay? The girl was such a _sneak_. Before I knew it, she had paid for the tickets and the food and everything. She had even loaded the car with a full tank of gas before she picked me up at school."

Rachel's grip on her fork tightens considerably.

Kurt grins, "Did she hold the doors for you and pull out your chairs?"

When Quinn colors slightly and mutters "Freaking ninja, I tell you", he breaks out into laughter. "Shut up, Hummel. We are not talking about this anymore."

"Girl, why you ruinin' our fun?" Mercedes jibes with a chuckle.

"Fine, we'll cut that conversation," says Santana, and Rachel feels a flood of relief, until "But I have another question for you."

Quinn raises an eyebrow in askance.

The Latina pulls out a brown paper napkin from Quinn's wallet, which is still apparently in her possession. The blonde's forehead falls to the table with a thump as Kurt makes a grab for it and Mercedes squeals in delight. Rachel feels something cold sink into the pit of her stomach.

"Honey, who is Nikki?" Kurt asks sweetly as he examines the napkin in his hand, "And why do you have her number?"

The blonde sighs and lifts her head slightly, "The barista at Starbucks."

He blinks and stares blankly at her.

"You've met her once. We ran into her at the grocery that time we were looking for your special crackers for your special cheese."

His expression doesn't change.

"You liked her hair. You said it reminded you of Anne Hathaway in Devil Wears Prada."

His eyes light up in recognition, "Oooh! Her!"

Brittany suddenly reappears and plops down in her seat. "What are we talking about?"

"Stupid things." mumbles Rachel under her breath, too low for anyone to hear, as she stabs at her salad.

Kurt shows the napkin to Brittany. The tall blonde chuckles, "She finally gave you her number, huh?"

"This morning." Quinn grumbles.

"She's cute. And nice. She never gets mad when I can't decide what to order. And she's cute." says Brittany, sipping at her orange slushie.

Santana grins. "You should call her, Q. You wouldn't want to break her poor little heart."

The head cheerleader huffs, "You're just trying to emotionally blackmail me into asking her out so you can get a laugh out of it."

"It scares me how you know me, sometimes." the Latina says, still grinning. "But that won't save you. I'll still get you to do it."

"Quinn doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to do." Rachel cuts in, trying her best to keep (most of) the venom out of her voice.

Quinn shoots a small smile at her.

"I dunno girl, you've been single for a while now." muses Mercedes. "Don't you wanna get back in the game?"

The blonde sighs and rubs the back of her neck. "Well... uh… yeah…" she admits softly.

Rachel's chest tightens painfully. She reminds herself to breathe.

"Then what are you—" The Latina is cut off by a crash, and then loud laughter from the other side of the room.

Their heads automatically swivel in that direction, and they see a freshman picking himself up off the floor, covered in spaghetti, while some Cheerios give each other high-fives.

Santana laughs first, loud and unabashedly. Then Quinn chuckles lowly, and Brittany giggles. Kurt and Mercedes follow. But Rachel feels her heart go out to the boy who's obviously on the brink of tears, and her anger rises at all the unfeeling onlookers who laugh even louder when he rushes out of the cafeteria.

"The noodle hair actually looks better on him than his current haircut." remarks Santana.

"Well, the sauce will do nothing for his face." Kurt adds.

Mercedes snorts, "It doesn't look that much different without it. That acne problem is outta this world."

They laugh again, and fist-bumps are exchanged.

"It's not funny." Rachel deadpans.

"It is." says Brittany with another giggle. "He looked silly."

"He was about to cry." the brunette grinds out.

"You're right." intones Quinn. Then she grins, "Someone should call his mother."

The others laugh once more, and Rachel throws her hands up in the air, pushing her chair back. She makes it to her feet, but Quinn catches her elbow.

"Hey, hey, chill." the blonde says. She bites her lip, trying to hold in her own amusement even as she attempts to placate Rachel. "You have to admit it was kinda funny."

Rachel yanks her arm out of Quinn's grip. "No, Quinn. I truly find absolutely nothing humorous about the situation."

"Aw, c'mon, Berry. We were just poking a little harmless fun at him."

"_Harmless?_"

The cheerleader sighs. "We weren't the ones who tripped him. He wasn't even around to hear what we said, and what he doesn't know won't hurt him. Why does this _matter_ so much?"

"It matters because it does hurt. The people who laugh at your disgrace hurt you just as much as the person who disgraces you. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." the brunette asserts, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Jeez, we're not crime fighters, we're _teenagers_ in _high school_. Besides, kids like that get made fun of because they make it _easy _for others to do just that."

"You're blaming the victim!"

"I—"

Rachel steps right into the blonde's face, "You're telling me that _I_ brought all those years of torture and humiliation I endured upon myself? That just because I choose not to succumb to the norm gives others the right to punish me for it? I can't believe you!"

Quinn growls in frustration, eyes flashing dangerously, "Will you stop being such a _moron_ for five seconds? I swear, sometimes I think your whining is at a decibel only _dogs_ should be able to hear! Why can't you just lighten up, huh? Do us all a favor and get over yourself, you egotistical brat!"

The diva staggers back. Quinn sees shock, fear and pain flash in wide, chocolate orbs. She flinches inwardly, and diverts her gaze from them. And that's when she notices all the other eyes trained on her and Rachel, stunned and spellbound. This time she doesn't hide her grimace. "I knew this was a bad idea..." she mutters, fingers hovering unconsciously over the white wristband on her arm.

Rachel registers the words and the movement, and it jolts her out of her stupor. She bristles and feels the blood in her veins start to simmer. "Oh, so now it's _my_ fault too that _you're_ a bitch?" she spits.

"Wha—"

"I thought you'd changed, Quinn Fabray. Clearly, I was mistaken. You're still immature, and brash, and your heart is still as cold as the bottom of the Atlantic. And now I rather doubt you'll ever be anything more."

The blonde's eyes widen slightly, and then she grits her teeth and clenches her fist. "Is that so?" Suddenly, her shoulders slacken and her lips curve into a saccharine smile. "Well, in that case." her voice lilts, just as sweetly.

In a quick, fluid motion, the orange slushie has been plucked out of Brittany's hand and dumped over Rachel's head.

There's a collective gasp, and several expletives ring out as well, the most audible being Kurt's "_Shakira on a carousel_". Rachel stands there, unmoving, except for the trembling of her unhinged jaw.

Quinn nonchalantly turns back to the table, shoulders her bag, retrieves her wallet and takes out a few dollar bills out of it, and tosses them on top of her half-eaten sandwich. "Sorry, B. Go get yourself another drink."

Without further ado, she waltzes out of the cafeteria, leaving shards of ice and stone and despair in her wake.

* * *

Rachel drags her feet towards the exit of the school, eyes on the ground. She's actually eager to get to parking lot, now that this wretched day is finally over, but she _can't_ seem to muster the energy to go any faster. Maybe it's the sticky corn-syrup stains covering the shoulders of her sweater that are weighing her down. It sure feels like it anyway.

She pretty much spent the rest of the day after lunch as a zombie— lifeless and shuffling unsteadily from class to class. The shock of getting slushied after not having been on the receiving end of one ever since she became a junior (long enough for her to forego packing extra clothes to school)— and by Quinn, no less, who was pretty much solely responsible for the cessation of the 'attacks' in the first place— has numbed her over. She's rather glad of it. She's pretty sure she doesn't want to be able to feel right now.

She knows that she needs to release the emotions that are churning just under that thin layer of anesthetic shock. She has to, so that she can sort through them and somehow regain the ability to think rationally, and hopefully fix this terrible state of affairs. But she can't do it here. She won't do it here. She's holding out for the comfort and privacy of her own home.

"Hey, loser."

And just like that, she's slushied for the second time today.

She doesn't even see who did it. All Rachel sees when she looks up is the blonde cheerleader standing several lockers down, a satisfied smirk appearing as she watches the purple goop slowly slide down the side of Rachel's face.

Quinn tosses her last book into her locker, slams it shut, and walks away. Santana follows Quinn after shooting a semi-apologetic look at Rachel, dragging a stunned Brittany with her.

Some boys from the football team laugh as they pass by. "Open season again, Berry."

Apparently, Rachel _can_ run though, because that's exactly what she does.

* * *

That night, she cries.

It's a silent, steady stream of tears— from her Daddy's car, to the shower, through dinner, and finally in her bed. She hasn't uttered a single word the whole time, ignoring her fathers' questions and Tina's phone calls. She makes no sound, really, other than the occasional sniffle.

She's lying on her front, and she's run out of tissue paper, so she brings her hand to wipe at her cheeks. When she moves her hand away, she sees it.

The G-clef.

She inhales sharply. And then she growls, shoves her hand under her pillow, and turns her head the other way.

* * *

On Thursday, she doesn't get slushied even once.

But before she even makes it to her first class, the bottom of her bag has been slashed open by some jock she doesn't know and she's opened her locker to have a landslide of Styrofoam nuggets fall on her.

By lunch time, she's heard that Stephanie is spreading a rumor about her getting an STD from the janitor.

The worst part is how people shoulder her out of their way in the corridors, like she's invisible. And the worst part of that part is Quinn.

Quinn won't acknowledge her. At all. It's completely disconcerting and has her out of sorts because the last thing Quinn has ever been to her is _inattentive_, even if for a long time the attention was in the form of verbal spats. But now the blonde won't even look at her. She pretends not to hear anything when Rachel tries to talk to her. It's also frustrating to no end.

Then Rachel finally decides to _touch_ her— just a light tap on the shoulder, after their shared fifth period History. The cheerleader whirls on her so fast, grabbing the offending hand in a vice-grip_._ Rachel feels the wind knocked out of her as her back slams against the wall, and she can't breathe in again because hazel eyes are cutting into her like blades slicing through her lungs.

Quinn _snarls_, furious and sinister, and the brunette whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut.

"What's going on here?" asks Mr. Barnes, their history teacher.

"Nothing," Rachel hears the blonde reply. She opens her eyes again, and sees Quinn give her a pointed look as her hand is released, "absolutely _nothing_."

* * *

If Rachel thought glee would be any better, she was so very, very mistaken. Quinn walks in and says two simple words that wreak havoc.

"I quit."

She's halfway out the door already when Mr. Schuester manages to blurt out "What?"

"She said she quit." states Finn, astounded. Some turn to glare at him.

Rachel stands, "Why? I can understand that you don't want to be around me right now, but—"

"That's only part of it." Santana interrupts, eyes fixed on Quinn's back. "She wants to hurt you. Not only that, she's hitting where it hurts the most." She snatches up her backpack with a sigh and stands up as well. "Let's go, B."

"Wait, where are you going? You're quitting too?" growls Puck.

"No, there's just no point in staying. Glee is over."

Understanding slowly dawns among them. They don't qualify with just eleven. And if they couldn't get new members even with Quinn in the club, joining Glee now would be an unofficial taboo with her leaving and the whole school knowing about her fight with Rachel Berry.

"Quinn…" Brittany pleads, "I don't want to stop singing."

"Quinn!" echoes Rachel, "Please don't do this! You're not just hurting me, the others—"

The head cheerleader looks over her shoulder, but doesn't meet the brunette's eyes. "I will be responsible for the death of this dream of yours. But the deaths of theirs? That's on _your_ head."

And as Rachel watches Quinn leave for what feels like the millionth time in two days, she doesn't wait for the solace of her own home.

She breaks.

* * *

That night, she doesn't cry.

It's like she ran out of tears in the choir room. That, or she's too exhausted to cry, like she's too exhausted to sleep.

So she reclines on top of her covers, awake at two in the morning.

She's had to spend a lot of time by herself, before she made friends. But she's never felt as alone as she does right now.

As she shifts onto her side from her back, she sees it again. This time she stares at the G-clef for a long, long time. She remembers the feeling of _not_ being alone, she remembers Quinn, she remembers—

A cry of agony escapes from her lips.

She fists her hand around the drawing and cradles it tightly to her chest with the other. She curls her body around it, tucks it between her folded knees, her chin and her heart. She lies there, clinging to that memory of sunshine as she trembles in the moonlight.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: ...Apparently, I can write angst (ninja!angst!), judging from the reactions I got for the previous chap. But don't worry, the fluff is back with a vengeance and will melt it all away with the warm and the fuzzy! I hope you guys like how I end this, because some people expressed some really strong feelings about how it should play out.

So this ends my first attempt at a multi-chap fic. Any constructive crit would be really awesome for my writing in the future. Though I would be equally happy if you just left a smiley face if only to let me know you read and enjoyed this story (anonymous/accountless posting is enabled). Thank you!

Many hugs to my beta, **crimsonrosepetals**, for letting me bug her endlessly, even if she had to study for an exam (aww!), and even if Faberry does absolutely nothing for her (blasphemy!).

And the Glee premiere, just how awesome was that? Woo! :D

Long author's note is long.

* * *

**Chapter 06**

Santana pulls her into the girl's bathroom first thing in the morning, and leans back against the door. "You look like crap, Berry."

Rachel doesn't bat an eyelash.

"Wow, you must be even worse than you look if you're not even trying to answer back."

"Is there a point to all this?" sighs the diva.

"Yes. You need to talk to Quinn."

Rachel whimpers, "I've tried!"

"You need to try harder." the Latina insists. "She's as much of a mess as you are."

"It certainly doesn't seem like it."

Santana narrows her eyes. "She went out last night and got drunk off her ass. By the time Kurt and I got to her, she was halfway to alcohol poisoning. And although she's had a couple of beers every now and then, she actually hadn't gotten even tipsy ever since she got pregnant until last night. She's a mess, trust me." She rubs her temples, and grumbles, "I want to slug that useless, idiot barista… couldn't fucking keep Quinn in check."

The brunette stiffens. Quinn had drinks with Nikki? A now-familiar pain shoots through her again. "She clearly doesn't want to have anything to do with me. Why don't _you_ talk to her?"

"Because that's not how Quinn and I work. When shit happens, I beat up the person responsible for pissing her off. And she does the same for me, in her own way. Neither of us is really good with the words and the talking and all that emotional stuff."

"You're good at it with Brittany." Rachel points out.

"That's because it's me and Brittany, and that's how _we_ work." the tan cheerleader sighs, obviously annoyed at having to explain this much. "It's not the same for Quinn and Brittany either. That involves mostly cuddling. And there's still no talking. But _you_ are married to your vocal chords."

The diva now looks slightly affronted and still unconvinced. Santana almost growls, but forces herself to loosen her stance and moderate her voice. "Look, don't you think I would fix this if I could? Don't you think I've tried to as well? Don't you think I wish that things were different— that when my best friend, like, gets fucking _pregnant_, she could actually feel comfortable enough to discuss it with me properly and I could actually feel comfortable enough to listen? I'm not just being lazy about this by dumping it on you."

Rachel softens as well. "I'm sorry, Santana, I didn't—"

The Latina holds up a hand. "It's okay. The point is we're not perfect, just badass… although that's pretty close. I'm doing what I can, but this is between the two of you. So fix it. Use your head. Or your heart, or whatever, I don't care if you _annoy_ her back into being your friend."

The brunette's face falls. "I do want to fix it. I was never even truly angry with her in the first place. I was being… kind of petty." She coughs, remembering how it was really her jealousy that had fueled her supposedly 'righteous' anger. "I mean, I started the fight over something that I felt was significant, yes. You should know how I feel about bullying. But it wasn't _so_ important that I couldn't have just let it go after expressing my initial feelings, or simply handled it better in another way. We _both_ ended up going overboard." She runs a hand through her hair in exasperation. "There really wasn't anything new about the way she reacted either— the insults, the slushie. And all the other pranks and whatnot that followed weren't her. That was the rest of the school jumping at the chance to make up for lost time and pick on me again. The only truly worrisome issue is glee."

"Artie and Tina suggested ganging up on her, or something. But that'll probably just make things worse."

"Yes, that would only antagonize her further. That's the last thing we need. If there's one thing I've learned from this, it's that Quinn abhors being told she's wrong."

Santana winces. "You have no idea. Her dad used to—" she shakes her head, "Nevermind. So this is gonna sound kinda funny, considering your height, but you're a really big person, you know that? Most people would want to shank her."

Rachel chuckles sadly, "That would be quite counterproductive to me, considering the part of this that hurts the most isn't really what she did, or is doing, but that I miss her."

* * *

Today is different. Quinn isn't ignoring her, because the blonde isn't giving her the chance to be ignored. Quinn is actively avoiding her.

The blonde walks in five minutes late to all their shared classes, kicks the person seated closest to the door out of their seat, and is gone in mere seconds when the bell rings. She's nowhere to be found during lunch— Rachel checks everywhere she can think of, twice. The brunette's head turns at every flash of golden yellow in the hallways, but none of them are Quinn.

Rachel's seen her enough to notice the bloodshot eyes and the way Quinn's shoulders are more slumped than usual though and the way she spaces out in Physics, her favorite subject.

Finally, at the end of the day, Rachel decides to conduct a stakeout outside the locker rooms, where Quinn will have to go before Cheerios practice. She sprints out of her last period, determined to get there before the cheerleader.

And as she turns the corner leading right to the gym, she hurtles into Dave Karofsky, making him spill the contents of his water bottle all over his pants.

They both stare down in horror at the mess as the rest of the hockey team snorts and other onlookers jeer about bladder control. Then Karofsky looks up and glares at her. "You did that on purpose."

"No, I—"

A loud _smack_. And then pin-drop silence.

Rachel stumbles backwards, instinctively reaching up to cup her cheek, where Karofsky's backhand had connected. She thinks she feels herself lose her footing even further, and then she's falling—

—into a pair of arms wrapping around her from behind. They're solid and they feel like an old habit as she sinks back into them, and Rachel almost sobs because, god, she finally feels grounded for the first time in three excruciating days.

"Quinn…" she whispers.

Those arms squeeze around her waist just the tiniest bit, before disappearing. She's about to cry out in protest but then Quinn steps around to stand in front of her and she catches a glimpse of the blonde's face.

Quinn looks positively _bored_ as she regards Karofsky, like he's even less interesting than talking to a rock. But something feels terribly off, there's something electric in the air and Rachel's sixth sense is pinging like crazy.

She feels a hand on her shoulder, and she turns her head slightly to Brittany, who's wearing the biggest frown she's ever seen on the tall cheerleader. Santana is beside her, absolutely livid, the red of her face evident despite her darker skin tone.

The hockey jock sneers at them. "She deserved it. She's a freak."

Quinn's duffel bag drops to the floor and the head cheerleader bends over to rifle through the contents of its side pocket.

"Q, what are—" Santana starts, but is interrupted by Brittany's hand on her chest.

"Remember that time in third grade when Eddie Burns ripped the head off of Q's stuffed doggy toy? The one she'd had since she was a baby?" whispers Brittany.

And Rachel gulps when, all at once, the color drains from Santana's features, now looking whiter than her girlfriend, and the Latina actually takes a step back. "Oh, fu—"

Quinn straightens, holding a rolled up magazine in one hand and something else the diva can't make out in the other. She takes a few languid steps towards Karofsky.

Dave snorts, "You gonna whack me with _that_, blondie?"

There's a click, and then Quinn is tossing a lighter to Santana, and one end of the magazine is on fire.

"Holy—"

Karofsky doesn't get to finish that sentiment because he's abruptly backed up against the lockers by an impromptu torch being waved in his face. Rachel now possesses a perfect understanding of the phrase 'calm before the storm'.

"What's the matter, Karofsky?" Quinn snarks. She points the flames at his pants. "I thought I could help you dry off, since you seemed _so_ upset about getting wet."

"I'm sorry!" he cries, "I'm sor—"

"Not yet, you aren't." declares the blonde. "But you will be, after you spend a whole week wearing skirts and lipstick to school. Won't you?"

"I don't get this! I thought you hated her again? The other guys have been—"

"I don't care what you think, you turd. In fact, I didn't even know you _could_ think. But since you can apparently understand words, I'm going to say this. And I'm only going to say it once, so listen carefully. You, and everyone else, better stay away from her. Because if I find out that even just _one_ hair on her head has been touched…" She finishes by thrusting the magazine dangerously close to his groin.

He nods vigorously.

"Wonderful." And she casts the burning periodical at him.

He yelps when it makes contact with his chest and he fumbles around before it drops to the floor.

"The devil—" Sue Sylvester arrives at the scene and stomps down on the flames. "I'm pissed off and wondering where the hell my Cheerios are, especially my captain, and I find her playing arsonist? Back off him, Q. And if you like fire that much, I can send you straight to hell. Figgins' office, now! And that goes for you too, Jason-face." The coach marches off in the direction of the principal.

Quinn turns to Rachel and her expression instantaneously morphs from outrage to pain and regret. Rachel has seen a similar look on the blonde, on that day she sat down beside Quinn in the hall after Finn had found about the baby not being his.

The cheerleader reaches out, as if to touch Rachel's rapidly bruising cheek, but seems to think better of it and drops her hand. "Take her to the nurse's office, B." she says quietly but firmly. Then she lifts up her duffel bag and follows after Sue. Karofsky trails her too, keeping a sizeable distance between himself and the head cheerleader.

Brittany sighs and nods at Santana, then steers Rachel around. "Ice pack time."

The diva glances over her shoulder one last time at Quinn's retreating back. If her gaze had lingered a second longer, she would've seen Quinn do the same.

* * *

"I don't understand her, Brittany." Rachel sighs, pressing the cold compress to her cheek.

The blonde chuckles, folding her arms together, "That's okay."

"Is it really?"

Brittany nods. "You don't have to get everything, Rachel. Some stuff you just have to accept. Like math formulas."

The brunette smiles sadly. "Well. Quinn is certainly a complicated equation." Then she frowns again. "I can't tell if she hates me, or what."

"She doesn't."

"But…"

Brittany takes a seat beside her on the bed, leaning back on her hands. "She's hurt _because_ she doesn't hate you. She likes you. But you said not-nice things. She doesn't want you to think like that about her. She's been trying so hard for you, you know? And it's not easy for her. But she's been trying because she wants you to like her too."

"I…" Rachel bites her lip. "I do like her."

The cheerleader grins. "I know. But she thinks you don't anymore. So she got hurt. And Q and S are funny; they don't cry when they get hurt, they get mad instead. And Q's even madder now because she's more hurt. Didn't it hurt more when she slushied you this time than when she used to because you became friends since then?"

A few moments pass as Rachel processes, closing her eyes. _Loyalty, forgiveness, humility, patience _flash in her mind… no, it definitely couldn't have been easy. Change is never easy. And Quinn must have felt like her attempts at change, at being a better person, had blown up in her face. It wasn't difficult to revert back to being the person she was, to throw up the walls of steel that she used to employ to protect herself again. It's like relapse. It's actually somewhat expected at some point.

She reflects on today. Quinn stood up for her, almost just like she had on the first day of the school year. Another flashback takes her to the Monday after that, in the choir room with chairs strewn everywhere, Quinn asking her to leave… and it becomes clear that the blonde was avoiding her today to, once more, protect her from Quinn herself, in the blonde's own convoluted way. Belatedly, she realizes that might be another reason Quinn quit glee too. Quinn's been suffering alone.

She thinks of _spontaneity_, and how Quinn, kind of ironically, has been staying true to that word. It actually brings a smile to her face.

"She doesn't hate me."

"That's what I said, silly." Brittany throws an arm around Rachel's neck and leans in close. A serious look crosses the tall blonde's face. "I know Quinn is mean. And kind of stupid. She'll insult you when you don't deserve it, like she did that time in the cafeteria to both you and that guy, and you'll get hurt and you'll get pissed too. But I'll tell you a secret, Rach. If you stick with her, she'll make it worth your while. Because she's the type of person who'll think of something like the Conspiracy to help her dumb, blonde, farm-girl friend with most of her grades, even if she says it's for her own sake. Besides, you can be plenty nice for the both of you. It balances out."

Rachel stares at her. "Is _that_ why you're so nice to everyone? To, in a way, make up for Santana and Quinn?"

Blue eyes twinkle. "Maybe."

The brunette's jaw drops. "I am so sorry I ever underestimated you."

Brittany laughs. "It's okay. I wanted you to. It's my way to both draw people to me and keep them at a distance."

"Okay, you're seriously some kind of ninja genius."

"Only when I need to be. I really like to keep things simple most of the time."

Rachel blows out a breath and giggles. She leans her head on the blonde's shoulder. Brittany pats her hair. They stay like that for several minutes, just enjoying the quiet after such a lively week.

Then Brittany starts chuckling. The diva raises her head slightly, "What's funny?"

The cheerleader grins. "Fried Karofsky dick on a stick."

The corners of Rachel's lips begin to creep upward, and then she starts giggling, which escalates until both girls have fallen back on the bed in full-blown laughter.

* * *

The corridors are empty now with half the school gone already and the other half busy with their various club activities, so she doesn't worry about colliding with anyone this time. Rachel makes a mad dash for the principal's office, but only Figgins is still there by the time she arrives. She knocks on his door and he gestures for her to come in.

"You're Rachel Berry, aren't you? How is your cheek?"

"Its fine, sir, I just iced it. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm actually looking for Quinn Fabray."

"Fabray? I just sent her and Karofsky home after suspending them both for a week."

Rachel frowns. "Wouldn't that go on her permanent record?"

"Why, yes, it would."

"Principal Figgins, with all due respect, I implore you to reconsider. Surely you can't penalize her for trying to defend someone else's honor, especially if it will affect her future, such as when she applies to prospective colleges."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. It's no small matter, this incident, it cannot be overlooked."

The brunette huffs; she really doesn't have time to argue with him. If she hurries, she might still catch Quinn in the parking lot. "Sir, have you ever heard of Jewish witches?"

* * *

Rachel finds her just outside the main doors, standing at the top of the front steps. It's raining and she's slipping into her letterman here under the covered entry while she talks into her phone.

"Mom, please calm down… I just _had_ to, okay? …It was a copy of Vogue, not a flamethrower… yes, the latest issue, why— alright, I'll buy you a new one, sheesh… I am _not_ acting out! Last night was just a stupid— urgh, can we please talk about this when I get _home?_ …Thank you. Bye." Quinn disconnects the call and turns.

Their eyes meet, and everything Rachel had wanted to say is suddenly lost. The blonde's expression is unreadable and she exhales through her nose.

Then in three quick, long strides, and a slight dip of her head, Quinn closes the distance between their lips.

Rachel's absolute favorite feeling in the world is when she drinks a mug of hot chocolate on the coldest day of the year, and it's like liquid joy slipping past your lips and pooling in your stomach and spreading out to your fingers and toes, thawing you from the inside out, until it reaches your head and you get that warm fuzziness just inside your skull that makes you act all giddy.

The kiss feels exactly like that. Only, better.

Quinn even tastes like those mini-marshmallows. But softer.

It's chaste, just lips stroking lips, unhurried, unassuming and unbelievably gentle, with Quinn's thumbs massaging her hipbones and her hands fisting the cheerleader's jacket collar. The only thing wrong with it is that it ends much too soon.

Quinn pulls her head back, one side of her mouth quirking up. Her voice comes out quiet, but husky, "How's that for spontaneous?"

And then she steps away, pulls the hood of her jacket over her head, tosses her bag over her shoulder and charges into the rain.

* * *

Rachel's fathers take her bowling that evening. They'd been horribly worried about her the past couple of days, and they positively flipped when they saw the splotch of purple and blue on her cheek. She gently dismissed their concerns, stating that the offender had been dealt with, and the rest was something she had to work through on her own. To placate them further, she proposed a night out, so they could all have a sense of normalcy again.

It's half successful. She manages to bowl enough to pass for a game, talk enough to pass for a conversation, and eat enough to pass for a meal. Most importantly, she no longer appears despondent.

She's just awfully distracted. Needless to say, it's all because of Quinn.

They're grabbing some ice cream down the block from the bowling alley since it had stopped raining. _All Star_ rings out into the crisp night air. Rachel fishes her phone out of her purse. It's Kurt. She smiles, excuses herself, and walks off a little to take the call.

"Hello?"

"_Hey there. I heard you had quite the afternoon."_

Rachel chuckles. "I did indeed."

"_Is that laughter I hear? I knew there was more to this story than that oaf clobbering you and Quinn nearly turning him into a walking pyre."_

She raises an eyebrow, "So that's all you care about, huh? The story?"

"_Of course. You think I'd call to check up on you, prima donna? Pssh, don't flatter yourself."_

"I think I heard a compliment somewhere in there."

"_Must be your imagination. Oh, just so you know, Mercedes and I will be picking out those skirts Karofsky will be wearing, whenever he shows up at McKinley again. We'll make sure his fashion sense looks even worse than yours."_

The brunette laughs again and Kurt joins her in her mirth. Silently, she marvels at how far her relationships with the glee kids have come. Tina (plus Arite) had called earlier too, and Puck had texted a promise to rally the footballers into towel-whipping Karofsky every chance they got for the rest of year.

"Thank you, you two."

"_Are you kidding? I wouldn't pass up this chance if you paid me to. I have a lot of dumpster tosses to repay him for."_

"Right." She bites her lip, "So, I guess you don't want to hear the rest of the story as a gesture of my appreciation?"

"_Don't tease me like that, sweetie, I just might claw your eyes out."_

"Quinn kissed me."

There's a pause, and then Kurt squeals, _"That is _so _much better than anything I expected."_

Rachel laughs nervously, "I don't know. She kind of ran off on me afterwards, so…"

"_No, no! This is it! It was _you!"

Rachel blinks. "What do you mean?"

"_Okay, I assume Santana told you about what happened last night?"_

"She said Quinn went out with Nikki and got drunk and you two had to pick her up."

"_Mmhmm. The full story of _that _goes like this: Quinn called Chris because she couldn't remember this joke her Chris had told her. Chris called Judy because Quinn sounded really trashed and depressed. Judy called my dad because she obviously couldn't go anywhere with a broken arm and no car. Dad called me because he's in Cleveland trading car parts. And I called Santana because I required reinforcement. Santana picked me up, we picked Quinn up, I drove her and her car back to her place, and Santana drove me back to my place. Then I called Chris to let her know her little sister was safe and sound. After talking to her, Jack came on the line."_

"Jacqueline?"

"_Yes. She asked me if Quinn and Nikki had made out or anything. They hadn't, and I told her so. She laughed, and said 'Whoever is holding Quinn back must be really important if she can resist someone's advances even while she's in a drunken stupor. Not to mention my own. If you find out who it is, tell them I said they have great legs'."_

The diva's brow furrows. "I think you might have lost me there."

"_I didn't get it at first either. Rachel?"_

"Yes?"

"_Jack says you have great legs."_

"…Oh."

* * *

Saturday morning finds Rachel treading through her favorite park to get Quinn's. They'd discovered it could be used as shortcut of sorts between their homes after that somewhat fateful meeting here nearly a month ago. The woods began only a few doors down the street from Rachel's, and the same forest bordered one side of Quinn's backyard. It reduced what would otherwise be a twenty minute walk through the main streets (five blocks down, then five blocks left) by half.

It's a warm day. Yesterday's rain clouds had moved on, riding the wind to chart other territories, leaving Lima's skies an endless, immaculate azure. The sun hangs sleepily above and behind her, caressing her shoulders and back mildly with its warmth. It's a warm day, and that's the excuse Rachel gives for her sweaty palms.

She refuses to wipe them against her skirt though. At least the left one, that is, for fear that the ink on it will rub away. In fact, it's kind of ridiculous how careful she's been about washing her left hand and things like that, pushing aside her typically anal preoccupation with hygiene to preserve that drawing of the G-clef. But she'll hold on to what she can for as long as she can, because even if Quinn's feelings for her are by and large evident now, the two of them have yet to reach a resolution.

She's about three quarters of the way there when she comes to a halt. Just a little ahead of her on the trail stands a golden retriever, tilting its head at her. She grins and proceeds again. The dog plods forward to meet her.

"Hi, Apollo." greets the brunette, stroking the top of his head. His tongue curls out in response. He has a red collar now, adorned with a diamond-shaped tag.

The dog circles around her once, then bounds a little way down the path before stopping and turning to look at back at her. She laughs, nods, and follows.

[ A/N : link to song at www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=vVlnHT8OkQQ (Switchfoot - Learning to Breathe) ]

They walk together for a couple of minutes, and just as the edge of the wood comes into view, she hears it.

_I'm learning to breathe  
__I'm learning to crawl_

She knows that voice well. She closes her eyes for a second, letting it wrap and slide around her like silk.

_I'm finding that you and you alone can break my fall  
__I'm living again, awake and alive_

She moves forward again.

_I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies  
__So this is the way that I say I need you_

She stops by an old oak at the tree line, palming the bark with one hand and the other resting on Apollo's nape.

_This is the way that I say I love you  
__This is the way that I say I'm yours_

Her breath hitches. Rachel's not sure if it's the words or if it's the sight of Quinn standing in the garden, body angled away from the brunette, singing as she watches a pair of northern cardinals flit around a half-broken stone bird bath, the wind ruffling her plain, white sundress and loose hair.

_This is the way—_

Apollo shifts and his paw lands on a twig. The resulting snap is just loud enough to make the blonde turn. Her eyes widen when they land on Rachel.

Rachel smiles tentatively. "Quinn."

Quinn seems to relax a bit. "Rachel." She strolls towards the brunette, the grass crunching under her sandals.

Ducking her head, Rachel starts sputtering, "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry for coming by unannounced, I wasn't sure you'd take my calls and I needed to see you. I wanted to see you." She shifts her weight from foot to foot. "And I'm sorry for saying those things I said. I didn't mean any of them. I was just— I was really jealous, of Jack, of Nikki, and I'm aware that I didn't have the right to be, but I couldn't help it, I—"

The blonde's feet stop a few steps away from her, and she chances a glance at Quinn's face. She looks a little… curious, but says nothing. So Rachel presses on, "And, and I never got to thank you for what you did… about Karofsky. I mean, I don't condone violence but that… it felt kind of… nice."

Quinn remains silent. The diva swallows, "Say something…?"

One of the cheerleader's eyebrows twitches. "Something."

Rachel's jaw drops, then she releases a breathy laugh and sags back against the tree, lifting her hand to cover her eyes. "You're a riot, Quinn."

The blonde grins at her. "Well, I was going to apologize first but you beat me to it." And then she sobers. "I wanted to go to you this morning. Except, I'm kind of grounded, and this is as far out of the house as I can go. Mom took my laptop and phone too. So I'm glad you came." She lowers her gaze, "I wanted to apologize right after we started fighting that day, but I just lost it and… things got out of control so fast. But you were right about the bullying. I was being defensive. I didn't mean the things I said either. I was out of line and _so_ stupid— I got it into my head that if you would only ever think of me as a bitch anyway, then I might as well prove you right. But I should have been proving you wrong instead." She huffs, then pinches her bridge of her nose and braces her other hand close to Rachel's head on the oak, leaning sideways against the tree. "I kind of suck at apologies. I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry."

"I know." the brunette soothes, because she does know. She understands Quinn more now than she probably ever would have if they had never fought. "It's okay now."

Their gazes meet. Rachel tilts her head, and Quinn nods, and they both sigh with small smiles. And with that, their wounds close, and they heal.

Then the diva bites her lip, "So… what now?"

They both know what she's talking about. Quinn hums, "Can I just say something first?"

"What?"

"You've kind of always brought out the worst in me, haven't you, Twinkle?"

Rachel thinks that should sting, but she's thrown by the nickname and the accompanying smirk, so she just blinks.

Quinn looks meaningfully at her hand that's resting on the tree. "But you also bring out the best in me."

The brunette turns her head.

Her knees buckle.

Thankfully, the oak holds her up.

She stares disbelievingly for a long time, eyes scanning Quinn's wrist over and over.

_Love._

Eventually, when she's convinced the word isn't going to vanish, she turns back to the blonde. "Yeah?"

Quinn smiles tenderly. "Yeah."

Rachel's arms snake around her neck and pull her in.

This kiss isn't like the first. Its electric, and Quinn pins Rachel's body against the oak with the whole of her own, her forearms braced on the bark. The brunette moans and fists the hand that's tangled its way into Quinn's hair while the nails of the other graze the skin of Quinn's nape. The cheerleader shivers, then nips lightly at Rachel's bottom lip in retaliation, eliciting a whimper. When Quinn's tongue swipes against the offended area to soothe, Rachel's meets it, and then its battle of dominance as they slant their mouths together hungrily.

Until Apollo barks and they jerk apart.

They look down at the golden retriever sitting on his haunches, tail swishing animatedly. Quinn reaches to ruffle his fur, "Okay boy, the only reason I'm not kicking you right now is because you did a good job today."

Rachel giggles.

The blonde grins at her again. "So you were jealous, huh?"

The diva colors, but strikes back with "So how long have you had feelings for me?"

Quinn gasps inaudibly, caught off-guard, then she recovers and licks her lips. "Uh. Do you remember when I told you about how I was a hermit in my room for a week?"

Rachel blinks, "At the beginning of summer? _That_ long?"

"Not exactly. It didn't happen all at once." clarifies the cheerleader. "But I ended up thinking a lot about you then, reflecting on how I treated you. Then I realized that there was a lot I could probably like about you if I let myself. So I started to, and things snowballed from there. By the end of summer, I had already made up my mind to get closer to you." Quinn pauses here to cup Rachel's cheek with her hand. "And then when I _saw _you the first day back at school…" She trails off with a blush.

The brunette closes her eyes and nuzzles Quinn's wrist, smiling. "You planned the word thing, didn't you? You knew it would get my attention. And no one else knows about it."

Quinn chuckles. "Yes. I wasn't sure exactly how it would work out though. You surprised me too. The ultimate clincher was when you said you wanted me to be myself. I knew right then what the next word would be."

Rachel cracks an eye open. "I may have had romantic ulterior motives for that."

The cheerleader smirks and leans her forehead against Rachel's. "But you still meant it." Rachel nods. Quinn's expression turns serious. "Are you sure you still do now though?" she whispers.

"More than ever. I'm stronger than you think. I can handle you, Quinn Fabray." is the reply, emphasized by a soft kiss. Rachel feels laughter rumble through Quinn's chest against hers, and she quickly decides she loves that feeling. She pulls back. "You're coming back to glee. And you're doing something nice for San, Britt and Kurt. And you're going to introduce your new girlfriend to Nikki the next time you take me to Starbucks. Just for starters."

"Oh, am I?"

The diva presses their lips together again and strokes the small of Quinn's back. The blonde whimpers and then Rachel withdraws again, smirking.

"…Wow, I'm going to be so whipped, aren't I?"

"Think of it as another virtue."

Quinn barks a laugh. "Well. I'll have you know something, Rachel Berry." She leans in and purrs into Rachel's ear, "Your virtue? I plan to rob you of it, in time. You'll be my favorite vice."

A pleasant shiver shoots up Rachel's spine. The cheerleader chuckles and steps back, hands sliding down Rachel's arms until their fingers intertwine. Quinn gently tugs her away from the tree and out of the shade, and then pulls her close, placing one of Rachel's hands on her shoulder and her own on the small of Rachel's back and her cheek against the brunette's temple. They begin to sway lightly.

_This is the way  
__That I'm learning to breathe, I'm learning to crawl  
__I'm finding that you and you alone can break my fall_

Rachel smiles and nuzzles the column of the blonde's neck, feeling the vibrations of her voice and the pulse of her heart. Quinn buries her nose in Rachel's hair as she continues to sing.

_I living again, awake and alive  
__I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies_

The brunette looks at their joined hands and untangles their fingers, sliding the tips of hers down Quinn's palm to her wrist, brushing over the inscription there. "You should get this one done permanently."

Quinn stops and pulls her head back, eyes wide. "Yeah?"

Rachel looks into those orbs of amber and emerald, radiant like fairytales. And who would she be if she didn't believe in fairytales?

They both smile as Rachel lifts the Quinn's wrist to her lips and kisses _Love. _"Yeah."

FIN


End file.
